


And so, in these lines, I say to you: I love you like this, love. - Pablo Neruda

by endlessuniverse



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/F, Falling In Love, Female Characters, Female Relationships, First Love, Relationship(s), Romance, Slow Build, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-17
Updated: 2016-10-03
Packaged: 2018-04-09 21:11:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 39,218
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4364294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/endlessuniverse/pseuds/endlessuniverse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sansa has dreamed of true love ever since she was a little child. When the Tyrells arrive to Winterfell to arrange a marriage between the two families, she thought that her dream would be fulfilled with the handsome Loras Tyrell, however, her whole world changes as she falls for his sister.</p><p>Written in the world of game of thrones.</p><p>Disclaimer: this is a story based upon the novels of A Song Of Ice And Fire by George R. R. Martin. Any quotes or references from it are entirely the author's trademarks and this story is for entertainment only.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. the heart knows what it wants

The day was grey and cold, a soft drizzle covered Winterfell. Sansa was standing next to Arya and Catelyn, her brothers behind them and Eddard in front of them. Sansa could tell Ned was uneasy, her father wasn’t a man of many words and for what her mother had told her, this visit was important for the future of the family, _maybe they are going to arrange a marriage for Robb_ , Sansa thought. His brother was the heir of the Starks and the future guardian of the North.

Peasants and traders stopped their work as they saw the Lord of Winterfell, his family and guard gathering around the North Gate, which only occurred when something important was about to happen. They were all ecstatic, waiting for the visitors to arrive. It was a different day, and Sansa had imagined that day since she was a little girl. Big families and knights from other regions of Westeros that would visit Winterfell, she’d marry a great Lord to whom she would have beautiful kids with. She may be the lady of a Castle in the desert of Dorne, or in the high strongholds on the Vale. Maybe she’d be Queen, if she were to marry the son of the king… but power didn’t matter to Sansa, she just wanted to find someone who’d make her happy.

A not-so-far sound caught the attention of all the multitude, the wooden wheels of a carriage against the muddy ground of the Kingsroad and the steps of the horses, got louder and louder. _They’re getting closer, its like the old nan’s stories_ , southern knights that came to the north, maybe reuniting for a tournament? Maybe an alliance of some kind? The thought of meeting new people excited Sansa.

The leading group of the retinue was composed by two men, a sturdy old man with a beak-shaped beard that couldn’t be other than Mace Tyrell, and right next to him a gallant young knight wearing an armor painted with roses. Sansa had never seen a man as handsome, with golden eyes and brown hair. _That’s Sir Loras_ , maybe he came to marry someone, _could it possibly be me?_ , she thought.

They both dismount from their horses, and in that moment a graceful slender figure got out of the carriage right behind them, long cinnamon brown-colored curls and a flawless skin, big brown eyes that glared directly to Sansa, with a big smile, when she got closer enough, she gave a little bow to the group. Sansa couldn’t help but blush, she felt a little intimidated.

Sansa turned away with a shy smile and thought that she had never met such radiant people.

Two other women were standing next to the trio. Sansa startled when one of them snapped out of the awkward silence that wrapped the moment she was so absorbed in. 

The woman was small and fragile, but spoke loudly enough so everyone could hear, “So, the weather is as unswerving as you northerners”. Her voice was firm and revealing, she was Olenna Tyrell, or the Queen of Thorns. _The sharpest tongue in the realm_ , her mother explained to her, when they were studying the great families of the seven kingdoms.

Catelyn stepped up and greeted them with a big smile, “It’s a pleasure to have you here, please come into the castle and we will show you your chambers”.

As the group began to walk, the knight of flowers approached her, “May I walk with you my lady? My name is Loras Tyrell.” Sir Loras reached for her hand and gave her a kiss on the knuckles. Sansa felt her cheeks going warm again, and as the knight of the flowers took her by the arm she felt goosebumps.

“Off course, Sir Loras.” Sansa gave him a genuine smile.

“I must admit the cold in the north is way more harsh than what i expected,” he said softly, “I’m more accustomed to warmer places.” His tone denoted courtesy. The third son of Mace and Alerie was tall, four years older than her, and his characteristic vigor could be recognized by just looking at him.

“Oh, well…“ Sansa whispered. She’ve never talked to any other nobles of her age besides her brothers and sisters. The fact that she was having a conversation with one of the most good looking men in Westeros made her think twice what she intended to say.

“With all due respect of course,” he blubbered, saving her from having to respond, “the most beautiful thing here may not be its weather, but its people.” And his mouth formed a grin. Sansa smiled back, relieved, but fascinated by his charm.

The group kept their pace and reached the Great Hall of the Castle, where Ned stopped and turned around, “Rodrik Cassel and Hodor will show you the way down that corridor, to the guest house,” he said, ”get comfortable and we hope you can accompany us tonight for a welcome dinner.”

Sir Loras gave Sansa a small curtsy, “I’ll see you tonight then, my lady.” And went down the corridor Sir Rodrik and the Tyrells just went into. 

At the end of the group, there was Margaery, walking down the hall with her maidens, her hair tightened with braids at the top, shimmering with the light of the candles. Sansa remembered the look she gave her the moment she went off the carriage, how her lips quirked at the corners and how her big brown eyes took on a sheen. Why was she thinking about it? Why after having a moment with Sir Loras was she thinking about a girl she barely didn’t know anything about? Only that she was twenty-one, three years older than her. But she did know one thing for sure, she was the prettiest girl she had ever seen, she was, perhaps, even more delightful than herself to the eyes of everyone

 

 

The Great Hall was illuminated with more candles than Sansa had ever seen. It was filled with tables to welcome all the guests, who were many. Wine, smoked turkey, different types of bread, stews and other special dishes were served. 

The main table was presided by her father, her mother, Mace Tyrell and his wife, and the Queen of Thorns. Once she arrived at the Great Hall, the septa Mordane accommodated her in the table with her brothers and sister. The table across them was occupied by Loras, Margaery, and her maidens.

She started to eat, and the evening went on as usual. Arya picked on her. Robb, Theon and Jon were talking about girls at the other end of the table. Bran and Rickon were planning pranks as always… everything felt normal. Until something caught Sansa’s attention, at the other table. Margaery was staring at her with her eyes twinkled. She smirked and waved her hand, inviting Sansa to come over.

She stood up, and heard Arya howling, “Where are you going?!”, she approached their table with something she wanted to come as a resolute walk, but felt apprehensive. The long red dress she was wearing highlighted the color of her hair. _I hope Sir Loras likes it,_ she thought.

One of Margaery’s maidens changed seat, leaving one next to Margaery.

“I don’t think we’ve met,” she said, “my name is Margaery, and you must be Sansa, right?” the older girl was upright, but her features where relaxed. The corner of her lips a little quirked, showing a smile, just like Sansa saw her before.

“Yes, my lady.” She replied. Sansa felt comfortable around her, without knowing why.

Margaery was wearing a light blue and green dress, not so much covered for the cold of the North, with her back and arms exposed. “Well then, you need to show me around someday, this Castle is enchanting” she said, looking around and returning her gaze at Sansa, “please, get comfortable.” she gestured, offering her a glass of wine.

“Of-“ she stuttered a little bit, _that’s weird, I’ve never stuttered_ , “-Off course my lady, gladly.” And she gave her a shy smile as she took the glass. She’s so charming, she thought.

“Your brother Robb is the one that’s enchanting.” Snapped one of the maidens, while the other ones giggled. 

“Oh, come on, all the Starks are good looking,” Margaery said, “just look at Sansa’s hair, beautiful dark red, and deep blue eyes like the sea.” Her voice was soft and sweet, she then gently touched Sansa’s hand. The feeling of warmth, and the softness of her skin eased Sansa, she was very much tensed by the conversation.

Sansa froze, her mouth hung open, and after a moment, giggled. 

“You’re exaggerating,” Sansa said, “all of you are incredibly beautiful.” The older girl was softly stroking Sansa’s knuckles with the thumb.

“Am I right, or not, brother?” Margaery said chuckling, turning to Sir Loras, who was immersed looking at the Starks table, where Robb was. The way the knight of the flowers was gazing at her brother made her think about the rumors she’ve heard. People said Loras was a charming, young man with a bright future, but he couldn’t make love to women, because he had no interest in them.

“Hmm… What did you say sister?” And he smirked. “I think i’m going to introduce myself to the other Starks, if you’ll excuse me.” He stood up and left the table.

“Anyhow, I think we’re going to be really good friends my lady.” Said Margaery, as she watched her brother walk away.

Sansa nodded, and gave her a big smile.

The music the bard was playing got louder.

_A bear there was, a bear, a bear!_  
_all black and brown, and covered with hair._  
_The bear! The bear!_

Theon appeared next to the table and reached for Margaery’s hand. “My lady, come dance with me.” Margaery then stood up while her maidens laughed loudly.

_The fair? Said he, but I'm a bear!_  
_All black and brown, and covered with hair!_

Sansa watched the couples dancing, synchronized with each other, every now and then they would change partner.

_The wine is delicious_ , she thought, tasting the sweet, subtle taste of the alcohol.

_And down the road from here to there._  
_From here! To there!_  
_Three boys, a goat and a dancing bear!_  
_They danced and spun, all the way to the fair!_  
_The fair! The fair!_

Two cups, three cups, Sansa lost the count of how many she’ve had.

_Oh, sweet she was, and pure and fair!_  
_The maid with honey in her hair!_  
_Her hair! Her hair!_  
_The maid with honey in her hair!_

Sir Loras then came to the table and offered his hand to Sansa, “My lady, if you’d concede me this dance.” He said, leaning his head a little bit. Sansa took Sir Loras hand and stood up, they started dancing, mimicking the crowd’s movements. _Finally, I get to dance with someone other than my sept_ , she thought.

_The bear smelled the scent on the summer air._  
_The bear! The bear!_  
_All black and brown and covered with hair!_

Sir Loras movements were graceful, she felt like she was hardly making an effort. “Am I a good dancer my lady?” He asked. His breath was saturated with alcohol, from the wine, but Sansa could also sense the smell of a sweet scent of flowers. _Apparently the wine enraptured more than one_.

With every turn from the dance the knight of the flowers was giving her, she felt giddier.

_He smelled the scent on the summer air!_  
_He sniffed and roared and smelled it there!_  
_Honey on the summer air!_

“You truly are the best dancer I’ve ever encountered.” Basically because Sansa had only danced with her sept, as practice. _Move lightly_ she’d say, _you need to make the man feel like he’s in control_. She felt lightheaded and she couldn’t stop giggling in his arms.

After a few spins and steps they changed couples. Surprisingly, she was now dancing with Margaery.

_Oh, I'm a maid, and I'm pure and fair!_  
_I'll never dance with a hairy bear!_  
_A bear! A bear!_  
_I'll never dance with a hairy bear!_

“W-“ she stuttered. _Again?_ “-What is happening?” she chuckled.

“I like guiding, my lady.” The older girl replied smirking. The Tyrell girl had the same height as Sansa, “I love feeling like I’m in control.” Margaery was holding her tighter than Sir Loras, but even though the knight of the flowers was a great dancer, the delicateness of the movements and the closeness of the Tyrell girl made Sansa feel more safe. 

“And… I also think the ladies should learn more than what they are expected to know.” She stated.

_The bear, the bear!_  
_Lifted her high into the air!_  
_The bear! The bear!_

Her hair wasn’t tied in brides anymore, it was loose and the rapid moves of the dancing let Sansa smell her perfume. Like her brother, the older girl smelled like flowers, but the scent was stronger, it was intoxicating, in a good way. It made Sansa think of the summer isles. _This is what my mother told me about, the southerners aren’t scarce like we are, they know how to use their charm._

_I called for a knight, but you're a bear!_  
_A bear, a bear!_  
_All black and brown and covered with hair!_

“Are you enjoying the evening my lady?” The older girl asked. Her hand squeezed the side of her waist to pull Sansa closer. _Maybe I’m stumbling too much, does she know I’m a little drunk?_ , Sansa remembered those times when she and Jeyne stole some of the wine from the kitchen and had late night sleepovers. They would talk about boys and laugh until sunrise.

“Oh, yes, of course, the company couldn’t be better” Sansa said. She felt dizzy, _the wine, always hits me hard._

_She kicked and wailed, the maid so fair,_  
_But he licked the honey from her hair._  
_Her hair! Her hair!_  
_He licked the honey from her hair!_

“I must say, you’re quite peculiar.” Sansa said. The words came out of her mouth before she even thought about them. A half-smile curved the older girl lips, as she arched an eyebrow slightly.

“How’s that?” The southern girl asked. Now smirking fully.

Various impressions pooled in her head. _Beautiful, graceful, perceptive, clever, maybe manipulative…_ And all the sensations she felt the moment she met her, Sansa wasn’t sure what to say. All those things assembled into one person, it was overwhelming.

Suddenly, the music stopped. Theon stood up in front of the bard and the musicians, “Well, well, well, aren’t we having a really good tiiiiime?!” He grunted. All the people where glaring at him amused, _not again, Theon_. Robb, Jon and Sir Loras approached the corner in which the musicians were just playing and grabbed Theon before he fell to the floor. 

Eddard stood up of the main table, “Please excuse him… Keep enjoying the night.” He said loudly.

Margaery and Sansa both turned and gazed laughing at each other. _Big, big brown eyes…_ the older girls face was just a few inches from hers, looking at her profoundly. Sansa felt intimidated, but she also felt a warm sensation in the mouth of her stomach, the kind of disturbing, rare feeling that she’ve only felt around handsome boys.

The sept Mordane appeared next to the girls, “My lady,” she said to Margaery, “if you’ll excuse me, it’s really late and lady Sansa needs to be up early tomorrow.”

“Yes of course, my lady,” she bowed slightly to Sansa, “have a great night.” 

Sansa watched as the Tyrell girl walked to her table, she couldn’t help but notice how the dress highlighted her curves, specially her back. _What a beautiful dress_ , she thought.

“Let’s go Sansa.” The sept shrieked with impatience.

They walked across the dark grey allies of the castle of Winterfell, through the windows the mist could be seen all around the massive walls. The cold was ruthless, but the big, granite stones warded well the people that were inside.

Sansa felt her head spinning, she couldn’t walk properly. “I’ve told you to be careful with the wine, Sansa,” the sept disputed, “you drink too much and when you stand up everything goes up to your head, a respectable lady shouldn’t be in such state.” Yet everything the sept Mordane was saying felt like whispers, Sansa heard them far away and didn’t even pay attention. The events of the night were heaped in her head and all she could think of was how appealing the Tyrells where. 

_Sir Loras is handsome and chivalrous, graceful and slender._ Everything a girl could ask for, maybe the thought of marrying him wasn’t so far away, but she remembered the extensive talks about men with her mother. They aren’t perfect, and if Sir Loras seemed to be so, it was only a part of him, there must be something…

The sept Mordane and Jeyne Poole helped Sansa get off her dress, put on the nightgown and get into bed. A few candles were left on, and the moon light entered through the window. Sansa closed her eyes.

_But Margaery, she’s… different_. There was something special about her, Sansa noticed it right in the moment she first saw her. _She’s definitely… determined. She’s one of those girls who can get anything they want_. Yet something seemed so conflicting about her, she wasn’t so easy to figure out, and Sansa couldn’t be more unsure of what could be.

 

 

The morning light entered through the bedrooms window. It was pale yellow, the sky was cloudy. Sansa woke up and still felt dizzy from last night. “Gods.” She fussed. The sept Mordane was sitting next to her, weaving a big tangle of wool that seemed to be a blanket.

“I thought you were never going to wake up, Sansa.” She said. Her bony face was making that expression that annoyed Sansa so much, with pursed lips. She always did that face right before giving her a lecture.

“What time is it?” Sansa replied.

“Way past breakfast time,” the sept stopped moving the knitting needles and stared at Sansa, with pursed lips, “now we better wash you and get you ready for lunch, your mom and dad want to speak to you of something of great importance.” 

As she was dressing up, with a big brown cloak and a dark blue, long sleeved dress, Sansa thought about the oddness of the events of the past night. She snapped an intriguing comment at Margaery, it was as spontaneous as every prank Arya played on her, without a reason. She wondered what impression she left to the Tyrell brothers, to which she looked forward to talk to again. Sir Loras could be promised to her, and everything she ever dreamed of would become true.

When she got ready, the sept Mordane marched to the small Sept. 

Sansa walked fast through the allies of the Castle, almost jogging, as she knew her mother didn’t like lateness. 

When she got to the Great Hall, Ned and Catelyn were sitting next to each other, with the food untouched in front of them. _Gods…_

She reached the table and lowered herself gingerly. “Father, mother. I’m sorry I’m late.” She said, looking down.

“It’s fine Sansa.” Her mother said, giving her an inquisitive look. After a paused, she resumed, “Theon saved you from being the one that made a scene last night.”

Theon was the one that always was in trouble, making scenes.

They started eating, and a brief silence filled the room. Everyday was getting colder, _winter is coming_ , she thought of the Stark’s words in her fathers voice. Those words were heard more often in the castle every day that passed.

When they finished, her mother gulped and looked at her.

“Sansa, you know there will be a time when you will have to fulfill your duty for the family-“ her mother said, looking at her with the same _blue eyes like the sea_ that Sansa saw every morning in the mirror.

“-Yes mother,” she interrupted, “I will marry someone of a great family and have kids.” Catelyn constantly reminded her of her duty as a Stark. Well, as a Tully. They have had long conversations about how is needed to put the family first, _family, duty, honor_ , she’d recall, this time, in his mothers voice. It made Sansa dream of a happy life, to marry a great handsome knight and have the bards and musicians singing about their love story.

“If it can be someone you love, the better.” Ned said. He was more flexible than Catelyn, and almost every time the family had a discussion he’d reassure her mothers words with his own interpretation. Catelyn lightly scowled at him and turned to Sansa.

“We will do our best to find you the best suitor, but Sansa, you need to understand, sometimes we must do what we must do.” Her mother declared. Even though Sansa was accustomed to this talk with her mother, she couldn’t help but feel uneasy. _The fact that is an obligation takes the charm out of it_ , she thought.

The rest of the meal went as normal. Her father excused from the table to attend the letters that had been piled up in the maester’s turret, where Maester Luwin was waiting for him. Catelyn left early too, as she promised the Queen of Thorns and Alerie Tyrell to show them the Godswood.

 

 

Sansa was seating right beside her window, watching the sunset and the distant mountains covered with snow, every day a little bit more. A book was resting in her lap, _The Lineages and Histories of the Great Houses of the Seven Kingdoms, With Descriptions of Many High Lords and Noble Ladies and Their Children_ , opened in the Tyrell’s page.

The sept Mordane entered the room, “Lady Sansa, Lady Margaery wants to have a few words with you.” She said.

Smirking, she replied, “Let her in.” Sansa then remembered the unfinished conversation from the past night and let out a tense, long breath, that she usually did when she was about to have a conversation that might be uncomfortable.

Margaery appeared at the door frame. She was wearing a long dark cloak. Her face greeted her with a beaming smile. “Lady Sansa.” She said.

Sansa stood up with the biggest grin she could give, “Lady Margaery” and bowed slightly.

“How was your night?” The older girl said, stepping up and walking closer to Sansa.

“Not so good I’m afraid.” She replied, chuckling. _She did know I was drunk_ , and her arms fell to her sides.

“It’s alright my lady, we’ve all had those type of nights.” She replied, and eased into the seat next to Sansa. 

“You have?” Sansa got curious. A cleft formed between her eyebrows.

Margaery crossed her arms in her lap, looking away for a moment. Sansa noticed how her cheeks turned a little pink, and she returned her gaze with a big grin, “One time I was at a party very much alike the one from last night, in the castle of Highgarden. There was a festival of some sort and every noble family from the reach was there, being host by my parents, who were offering a feast,” the sweet tone of the older girl voice made Sansa mesmerized by her story, “I remember quite precisely I drank a lot of pink wine, and my cousin Olene was there, the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen.”

She break off her talking to let out a peal of laughter, “She’d call me pig face. Whenever she’d passed me in the hallways she’d oink.”

“Pig face, that’s ridiculous.” Said Sansa, laughing slightly.

“So at the party I got very much drunk and she started to pick on me. We ended up wrestling at one of the courtyards where the biggest fountain was,” the sunset had passed and a few candles were illuminating the room. Sansa noticed how the pupils of the older girl dilated, “next thing I know we are soaked in water and still fighting. Some say I pushed her, some say I made her trip over, whatever the case, we made the biggest scene of that night and my mother lectured me for days.” They both laughed, “Anyhow I enjoyed how ruined her dress was.” She said, shrugging.

“I would’ve payed to watch that” Sansa said, giggling. Margaery’s company was amusing, it made her feel as liberated like when she talked to Jeyne Poole. But Jeyne never understood the position of Sansa, she didn’t get her like the Tyrell girl did. It was as if she had known the older girl all her life.

Margaery took both Sansa’s hands and interlaced each others fingers. “I hope we can become good friends,” and made a pause, “really good friends.” She finished, more composed and curving her lips so a small grin was visible in her mouth.

“I’d love that.” Sansa replied. The older girl hands were now clasping hers. She started the conversation feeling tensed and anticipating how uncomfortable the chat could be, but now she was serene and cool. _How easy it is to talk to her_. She’d never felt that way with anyone, the type of calmness that made even silence comfortable.

“Sansa, can I call you Sansa?” Margaery said.

“Yes, my lady,” she chuckled, “I mean, Margaery” she corrected.

“Very well then, I hope you can come to the guest house and have lunch with us tomorrow, we brought dornish wine and different types of food from Highgarden.” She pulled her hands away and stood up. Her skin was glowing, even with the scarce light that was in the room.

Sansa gave her a small curtsy and Margaery left.

 

 

The morning was cold and dismal. The mist was as high as the great walls of the castle of Winterfell, and even though Sansa had looked through the window the whole morning waiting for the courtyard to clear, the deep fog didn’t lose terrain. She was hoping she could see her brothers and Sir Loras practicing with the sword, but with the weather they wouldn’t have even consider the possibility.

Arya had accompanied her all the time, talking about how excited she was to learn how to fence, although she would start with swords made of wood. Sir Loras encountered her the day before in a corner of the stables, practicing with a stick and offered to teach her. How sweet and gentle must a knight be, to offer his time and patience to teach the basics of fencing to a little girl. And specifically, a little one as exasperating as her sister.

After a few hours, it was already noon and Sansa finally got the final touches to her dress and put on perfume, so that she would look as radiant, or close, as the Tyrells were all the time.

 

 

One of Margaery’s maidens was waiting for her at the entrance of the room. She was smirking from ear to ear. _She probably learned that from Margaery, no one smiles the way she does all the time_ , she intuited.

Sansa entered the room and the fragrance of southern roses filled her senses. There was a rounded oak table at the center of the room, with the wolves of the Stark banner carved on it. Just Loras, Margaery and her maidens were there.

Sir Loras greeted her, “My lady, its such a delight to see you again.” Her brown curls were falling off to one side of his face and he was wearing a golden doublet that made him look more slender than he already appeared to be. “Please, come sit next to us.” And Sansa took the hand that was being offered to her.

As Sansa sat, the other maidens and Margaery did as well. The Tyrell girl didn’t took off her eyes from her since the moment she entered the room. The older girl was wearing a cerulean dress with little seams of pink flowers, “It’ll be just us Sansa,” she said smirking, “my parents and my grandmother are going to have lunch with lord Eddard and lady Catelyn.” She was sitting next to her, and because of the form of the table, Sansa could feel Margaery’s thigh and knee gently grazing hers.

The meal consisted of various types of fruits that are common at the reach, peaches, fire plums and others which Sansa had never seen. As main dish, cooked wild boar with floral spices that made it taste delicious. For dessert, the lime cakes Sansa loved. 

Through the whole time Sir Loras told the story of his first tournament, he was only a child and he’d beaten one of the toughest knights from the Vale by using his cleverness, the knight was bigger than him and he was unarmed quickly. Margaery’s maidens always interrupted the story to talk about how handsome this one or that one were, the gossips from the main families that assisted the tournament, or how clumsy some hedge knights were. 

After they were all finished, Sir Loras looked at Sansa, he ran a finger along his jaw, inquisitive, “I hope you liked the dishes, my lady.”

“I really did, thank you Sir Loras.” She replied, with a content, interested look. She never had those talks with her family, Arya didn’t care about those topics and her brothers were, well, uninterested.

“We should do something fun.” Margaery said. Her maidens started to giggle and whisper to each other, Sir Loras sank into the chair, his face looked disquieted, with a flat smile. “Come on brother, it’s not like we will make you braids again,” she said with a chortle, “whenever we play something he ends up losing or feeling embarrassed somehow.” She said, looking at Sansa playfully.

“…Lets, play hide and seek. This castle is really big and I will like to explore its secret places.” She suggested.

“Oh thats fine, I can do that.” Said Sir Loras, solaced, while the maidens grew up in excitement.

“Yes, sure…” Sansa said, “It’ll be fun.” 

It had been years since the last time she played hide and seek with her brothers and sister, the game was endless as they played in the guest house, the godswood, the bell tower, the broken tower… she was really good at finding people but not so good hiding from them.

“Loras, you’ll be the one that goes looking for us” Margaery said, standing up quickly and swiftly going out of the room. Her maidens where next, storming out and leaving all the seats scattered, and the table messed up from the meal.

Sansa gave Sir Loras a gentle smile and stood up, with a small curtsy and an apologetic, diverted gaze. She exited the main room of the guest house and thought of the best place she ever found to hide, an empty wardrobe at the highest room of the library tower.

It had been so long since the last time she felt this excited. She remembered that sensation of when she was a kid and she would play with Jeyne, she’d be the lady and Jeyne the lord, they’d build snow castles on the godswood. _Everything was so easy back then_ , she remembered with a nostalgic, wistful expression. She didn’t have to worry about anything.

Sansa trotted nimble, eager, trying to get to the highest room quickly. As she got upper and upper, through the last steps of the library tower, she heard distant steps that could be from the first level. She hurried up her pace, _did Loras look where i was going?_

There where big shelves that made the room feel tight, books scattered all around the floor, a little chaos of pages and memories that nobody got the time to organize. She opened the wardrobe door and entered rapidly. The distant steps got closer and closer until they were audible in the same room. Sansa was trying her hardest not to make a sound, _I’m really bad at this game_ , she thought, frustrated.

The door snapped open and Margaery growled, imitating the grin of a bear. Her face was doing a grimace, frowned, and with a big o shaping her lips. The Tyrell girl took Sansa by surprise and she let out an astonished, but relieved squeal. _Well I didn’t lose this time_ , she thought, covering her mouth quickly and started laughing. _Even making grins she looks cute_.

“Can I hide with you? I couldn’t find a good place, and you definitely know these walls more than me” Margaery said, still chuckling. 

“Yes of course,” Sansa replied, with a genuine delighted smirk, “you totally got me there.” The older girl got into the wardrobe and fastened the closet door. They were now so close Sansa could feel the older girls breath, warm, grazing her skin. And she could smell her perfume again, sweet, hypnotic scent. A small beam of light exuded through the little space between the two closet doors, Sansa could see the seams of the flowers in Margaery’s dress, her features slightly, but half her face was in the shadow.

“How good is your brother at this game?” Sansa asked.

“Terrible,” the older girl whispered, with a soft grin that appeared to be of great amusement, “he wouldn’t find us even if we were right in front of him.”

“Thats a relief then, I’m terrible at this game too, I’ve never won.” She said, heaving a sigh. Even if she didn’t know Margaery for more than a couple days, she felt really close to the older girl. She actively, suddenly, was someone who Sansa felt comfortable with, and it seemed like the Tyrell girl enjoyed her company just as much as she did. _Can she tell how much I like her? How much affection I’ve grown to have for her in the past few days?_ The thought made Sansa feel insecure. She didn’t want to give her a wrong impression, or make her back away.

“If you’re with me, you’ll win, I promise.” She said with a soft, rustling voice.

The atmosphere got quiet, and even though they weren’t talking, Sansa didn’t feel uncomfortable, she didn’t feel the need to say something, it was so calming, being with Margaery.

The older girl reached for Sansa’s hands in the dark, interlacing their fingers.

A question snapped from the back of Sansa’s mind, just like the one she asked Margaery when she was drunk, an unexpected, random question. But still, one that she wanted an answer to.

“I know this comes out of the blue but, can I ask you a question?” Sansa said, hesitating of what she was going to say.

“Yes, anything, please ask me.” Margaery replied, turning her head to one side, but kept her gaze on Sansa. Her eyes narrowed and her expression was the same Sansa saw when she snapped that random comment while dancing with her. The Tyrell girl got even closer and now their thighs were touching.

“Do you…” Sansa’s eyes looked down, and she whispered, unsure, “Do you think the reason why our families are here, is because I may be promised to your brother?” She then raised her head and studied Margaery’s eyes. Her big brown eyes, Margaery had a strong glance that didn’t waver, not even for a second.

“I’m not completely sure, Sansa,” she replied, keeping that strong stare that intimidated Sansa a little, like scanning her thoughts, “but it’s really plausible.”

“He is… well,” she blushed, “really handsome, and charming.” To marry him would be a dream come true, the southern knight seemed perfect. And after giving it a second thought, whatever flaw he had could be bearable.

Suddenly, someone entered the room. Margaery tapped Sansa’s lips with her fingertips, tilting her head so that she could see through the space between the closet doors. The older girl stared attentive, her mouth slightly opened. Sansa then noticed how pink and thin her lips were. I would… she stopped thinking, why did she thought of that?

Margaery’s left hand was still holding hers, she rubbed her thumb against her fingers so that Sansa would ease. The older girl was very perceptive, she felt how tense she was, how her muscles got tight since the moment that person came in.

The person left the room and Margaery returned her gaze to Sansa, “It was Loras. He’s so unobservant,” she said, chuckling, “he looked through the shelves and didn’t stop for a second when he saw the wardrobe, he stormed out so fast.”

“Oh.” She replied, still absorbed about the question she asked.

“Sansa,” the older girl said, looking at her, picking on what she was thinking about, “what matters is that the person that is with you treats you well,” Sansa had never met someone so perceptive about her thoughts and feelings. Beyond her interest in what Margaery was saying, she couldn’t stop thinking about this puzzle of a woman standing in front of her, “if there’s love, well… you’re really lucky but… looks, well,” she paused and put her hands on Sansa’s waist, “some women like tall men, some like short men, some like hairy men some like bald men. Gentle men, rough men, pretty men,” she got closer, “pretty girls…” The older girl held her breath, examining Sansa’s reaction.

Sansa froze. Her jaw muscles jumped as she considered her words.

The closet doors got open and one of Margaery’s maidens was standing there, resigned look on her face and her hands in her hips, “It’s been too long, Loras is terrible at this game, lets call it out for today my ladies.” She said, frustrated.

Margaery dropped her hands and got out of the wardrobe, “He’s the worst at all games. Lets call it out for today, my grandmother must be waiting to have tea with me,” she said, smirking at Sansa, serene, like if nothing had happened, “lets go.” She finished, blinking at Sansa so that she would snap out of the tranced, frozen look she had.

They walked in silence until they reached the corridor of Sansa’s chambers, “Have a good night Sansa,” Margaery said, “I hope you can show me the godswood someday.” The older girl leaned and gave her a kiss on the cheek, and left giving her a small curtsy. 

 

 

The night was tempered and very dark. The wind was blowing hard and blizzards kept hitting the windows of Sansa’s dorm. She was waiting for Jeyne for dinner, it had been a long time since the last conversation they had, she was her best friend and Sansa really needed to talk to someone.

The flames were swinging, dancing. She was sitting next to the chimney, looking at them. The warmth of the fireplace reminded her of how Margaery leaded when they danced, how elegant and smooth her movements were, even being drunk wasn’t a problem in that moment.

Jeyne arrived right on time and seated next to Sansa, she was wearing a modest brown dress, that she used every time she visited Sansa. With a big smirk on her face, “My lady,” she greeted, “or should I call you, my lady Tyrell now?” she tittered.

Uncomfortably, Sansa shifted to her left to look at Jeyne in the eyes, “What are you talking about?” she replied, arching her eyebrows, curious about what her best friend was going to say.

“Well, everyone is talking about it, rumors have it you and Loras are promised to each other” She said, upright and leaning a bit towards her, she was way more excited, inflamed with joy and Sansa was so caught up on what happened earlier that day, that she didn’t have the mind to think about Sir Loras.

Sansa pinched her lower lip, “Jeyne, you know I tell you everything,” She shifted in the chair and gave her best friend an immutable, firm look. Jeyne frowned, pursing her lips and staring with attention. Jeyne did that every time Sansa looked as uneasy as in that moment, she knew that she was about to tell her something that made a great deal to her, “so you know,” she continued, her voice faded, softly turning into a whisper, “I’ve never kissed anyone-”

“-You kissed Sir Loras, my Lady?” Jeyne interrupted, gazing at Sansa with an excited, agitated look.

“No, it’s not that.” Sansa’s look drifted away, she didn’t know how to put the words together, how to tell her, _what would she think of me?_ , She thought again of the question she wanted to ask.

“Ho-“ she stuttered, “-How do you know when someone has made a pass on you?” 

As awkward as the question was, she needed reassurance, she needed to know the signs she picked on were clear, she’d never flirted with anyone, so how could she know for sure?

Jeyne chuckled, “There isn’t a guide, you know?” she took Sansa’s chin gently and shifted her face so that Sansa would look at her, giving her an empathetic look, she then heaved a sigh, looking around, thinking for the right words. 

“If he constantly tries to have physical contact with you, or maybe makes too many flattering comments, well those are common signs,” she shrugged, “but sometimes it isn’t so clear. He may be unsure of how you feel, if he’s a gentleman, he would be more discreet, maybe insinuate something. And well, sometimes you just feel it.” She stated, making special emphasis on those last words. 

Sansa felt a little bit more comforted. Her best friend had always been understanding and she knew how, and what to say in those moments.

As much as Sansa wanted to tell her, she couldn’t touch such a risky subject, even if she’d known her from many years and trusted her with her life, no one could ever know what to expect. Jeyne grew up with the faith of the old gods, and even if there wasn’t an opposition from her faith to what she was experiencing, the northerners were prone to be averse of everything that wasn’t normal. The southern culture was a different deal.

“Thank you Jey, I don't know what I would do without you.” She said, her voice trailing off with every word.

Her best friend then stroke her face, “Look, this is the first time you’re undergoing this kind of situation, it’s normal that you feel doubtful and uncertain about the things that are happening,” She said, “just, don’t stress it too much, let the things flow. And you know, I’ll be here when you are ready to tell me who this mystery man is.” The girl gazed at her inquisitive, with a profound, dissecting look. 

She was as old as Sansa, pretty blossoming thing, dark hair and brown eyes like the northerners, _but not as perplexing as Margaery’s eyes_ , she thought.

Jeyne stood up and bowed to her, leaving the room.

 

 

How hard was that night, the countless speculations and ideas that went through her mind were stifling. She couldn’t get to sleep. The ritual she always did before she go to bed wasn’t different. She put on her nightgown and climbed up into the bed. She covered herself with the feather blankets and prayed to the Mother before she fell asleep, as she always did. _Please mother, have mercy on me, please mother, have mercy on me…_ , she’d repeat a thousand times until she’d feel deviating from the words and tired, but this time it wasn’t like that. 

After she got frustrated of repeating the prayer, the vision of Margaery snapped in her rambling thoughts. For the rest of the night, only the sight of the distant moon through her window would calm the thought of how the older girl smelled, her deep big brown eyes and the way they looked at her, and the beautiful color of the older girls soft brown hair, that remind her of cinnamon.

 

 

Three days passed, Sansa avoided Margaery. She’d ask everyone where she was and abstain from getting close. She didn’t know what to say.

Odd, was the description of the feeling that made her strangely attracted to Margaery, that vibrating feeling, an anxious sensation in the mouth of her stomach. When she was with Margaery she wasn’t totally herself, the thought of saying something that the older girl would dislike made her disquieted.

The craving, the need of spending time with her. The desire, urge of getting to know the Tyrell girl grew more every time they had met. All these new sensations where piling up, expressing the eagerness of how the company of Margaery affected Sansa.

_I should be worried about Sir Loras, I should be doing something to make the relationship grow_ , she’d thought, suppressing what she really wanted to think about. But every time she’d try to dream about how their life together could be, the thoughts of that peculiar girl stacked in front of the images she was trying to form, just making that impatient longing increase.

She didn’t have to wait much longer, as a letter was brought to her by the sept Mordane.

“Why haven’t you talked to the Tyrells again Sansa? I thought you were friends. They really are very similar to you.” She said, concerned.

“It’s nothing, I’ve just felt,” she paused, thinking about her words, “indisposed.”

She opened the letter and read condensed, analyzing every word.

_My Lady, this past few days have been, well, cold. I must admit I have missed you, and I hope that you can come tomorrow on the afternoon and show me the godswood. If you’d like, it could be just you and me. My maidens chuckle over everything and I need a little peace, and I can’t think of a more perfect place to clear my mind.  
Margaery Tyrell._

The letter was clear and concise. Not much was left to think, Sansa had to face her some day, and maybe, all the ideas that she had come up with were just simple speculation. That last possibility though, filled her with disappointment, I don’t have a reason to feel this way, girls aren’t meant to feel this way about other girls, she thought.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! thank you to everyone who has left a comment and kudos and just basically everyone who sat and read the last chapter. It’s my first work and English isn’t my first language so every suggestion or notes will be very much appreciated :)
> 
> Also, i didn’t notice the lack of italics on the first one since i just pasted the whole thing, ups. Newbie mistake, my bad. Fixed it. Hope you enjoy!

A soft, distant whistling noise was all that could be heard. Little flurries of wind brushed Sansa’s hair to the sides, and the clouds hid the sunlight of the afternoon.

She was waiting, impatiently, for Margaery to show up. She had answered the older girls letter, asking her to meet after lunch in the Godswood, beside the Glass Garden. Sansa wanted to be far away from the guest house and from everyone. She knew every tree and bush of the Godswood, and the night before she resolved to talk to the older girl about the strange feelings she was growing, and she had just the perfect spot to do so.

The southern culture is different from the old, rusty customs of the North, she could talk to the Tyrell girl openly and expect no judgement from her. And maybe if she had misinterpreted the signs she thought were there, perhaps Margaery would understand and the things between them wouldn’t change, _I don’t really like girls that way, this situation is just caused by the fondness I feel for a friend, that’s it_ , she’d repeat to herself so that her restless mind would back off a bit and would relax. Or at least that was what she tried to do.

In the morning, Sansa asked Jeyne’s help to look as beautiful as possible. She was wearing a black, silk dress that was specially made for her when she turned eighteen. The endings of the needlework perfectly fit her body, underlining her curves, making her feel pretty. On top of it, a white cloak with blue adornments that shined brightly, matching with her eyes.

For a moment she deviated from her thoughts and stared at the remote, noticeable red leaves that stood out at the top of the trees of the Godswood. The ancient Heart Tree reminded her of her father, a big, vigorous tree that endured everything, and that represented the faith in the old gods, that was the most common religion of the North. 

She then realized someone was looking at her, she twisted on her feet and saw Margaery, wearing a brown cloak that covered the same light blue and green dress she wore the night they met. Beautiful as always, with her hair tied up on braids, and a big, pleased grin that could topple great castles and wide mountains. But that expression didn’t last for long, because as soon as Sansa stood completely, cloak-and-dress completely, in front of her, the older girl gawked.

“You lo-“ She tried to say, stuttering, “-look amazing.” And after a quick gaze the older girl gave Sansa from the feet up, she looked at her with a tender, soft expression, curving the corners of her lips. For that instant, Sansa didn’t feel intimidated, she didn’t feel the same inquiring, profound look Margaery always gave. It didn’t feel like she was examining her, but that she was utterly astonished, and that glance reflected an authentic side of Margaery, because every time she saw her with her big grin and her friendly gaze she didn’t know what to think. It felt like vulnerability, a side she didn’t know of the Tyrell girl.

“Thank you my Lady,” She replied, smiling, satisfied and confident, feeling in control for the first time around the older girl. She then offered her hand to Margaery, “now let me show you my favorite part of the castle.”

Motionless for a moment, the older girl looked at Sansa, hiding the gape that had escaped from her face a moment ago. She took Sansa’s hand and interlaced her fingers, she’s really cold. Her soft, pale hand shuddered at Sansa’s touch. Strange thing, when the one that should have trembled at the other contact should’ve been Sansa. The southern girl was freezing.

They walked through the Godswood, passing over the old trees and breaking little twigs on the ground. The older girl looked around with every step, mesmerized with the view. She gandered every little detail. The grey colors of the sky, the cold weather, the distant, scarce people must’ve been a big juxtaposition with the friendly, shining people from the south.

Once they reached the sunken, hidden spot where Sansa went whenever she wanted to get away from everything, she turned around and grasped the other hand of Margaery, turning her so that she could face her. Margaery smiled, as always, but with that soft expression Sansa discovered before.

“I wanted to talk to you about something.” She said, getting closer to the older girl. She stared at her, fixed on her big, beautiful brown eyes. Analyzing every possible gesture that would indicate the true reaction of the Tyrell girl, that was so difficult to figure out, that concealed every non-neutral or uneasy expression.

“Tell me, sweet girl.” She replied, fixed on her eyes as well. Even after the brief moment where Sansa felt, possibly, Margaery’s vulnerability, she know felt uncertain again. _Sweet girl… she’s killing me_. Those two words made her forget about every sentence she tried to memorize the night before, every little detail she imagined, all the possible outcomes, where know erased, they ceased to exist in her mind.

“The other day, at the Library Tower,” she said, determined. She knew that she couldn’t hesitate, that the best way of telling things was being straight forward and let the heart speak for itself, “we were so close and,” the older girls eyes took on a sheen, a joyful look covered her face, “I felt…” Sansa’s mouth hang open, she felt a lump on her throat, “…good.” She finally said. It came way more straightforward than what she intended, not at all as subtle as she wanted it to be. But having Margaery in front of her, touching her, gazing so intently at her, just made her stupefied, _weak_ , she couldn’t repress that sincerity that could ruin everything. She wasn’t even sure she was totally herself around her.

Margaery looked at her, with an amused, quirky smile. Before she could think of anything, the older girl spoke quickly, probably anticipating how hard it was for Sansa to say something as simple as the fact that she felt good by being so physically close to someone, “I felt it too, sweet girl.” She said, releasing one of her hands, putting little strides of hair behind one of Sansa’s ears and stroking her cheeks. Sansa felt the relief, the looseness of not having her mind about to explode. She couldn’t dissect what just happened as Margaery continued, “It’s fine to feel that way Sansa. Don’t worry about it,” she said, calming her down, “most women don’t know what they like until they’ve tried it. And sadly, so many of us get to try so little before we’re old and grey.” Her words crushed every little thought Sansa had in the past few days, the relief of knowing the older girl felt it too was all she needed, and it hit her, she liked it in that way.

But the doubt also filled Sansa. She felt uneasy very quickly, as her mind considered that Margaery perhaps wasn’t going to do anything about it. And she was expecting her to react somehow, she intuited that she would, but was she wrong? Deep down, Sansa wanted one specific reaction, and the overwhelming sensation of acknowledgment that she wanted it was excruciating.

“I guess you’re right.” She replied, gazing away, her mind wandering for a moment. She sighed, “I’m just… really happy I met you.” She concluded, biting her lower lip. The moment had passed and nothing happened, and maybe it was for the better. There was a strain in Sansa’s smile.

“I am too, sweet girl.” Margaery said. “And you know, having a crush on me is normal, all the people that get to know me enough just… do.” She said, rejoiced. Sansa couldn’t help but to chuckle, the older girl knew how to break every moment of tension, and that just attracted Sansa even more.

“Shut up.” Sansa replied, pushing one of Margaery’s shoulders a little bit, diverted. The older girl opened her mouth, her lips shaped an o, but giggling.

“Excuse me.” A sneer formed in the corners of the older girl’s lips, as she pushed Sansa’s shoulder even harder. They started tussling, pushing and pulling, cracking up in laughter.

Sansa didn’t know how they ended up rolling around on the ground, fighting to be on top. When Sansa managed to sit on the older girls hips, she threw leafs and sticks on her face, rejoicing on how in control she was over Margaery. But it didn’t last for long. The older girl took her by the waist and turned her over easily, without an effort, and grasped both Sansa’s wrists and stretched them at the sides, leaning towards her a little bit.

“You can’t do anything now.” She said, shrugging in exult. “I totally won.” Sansa tried to flutter, searching for a way to get free. “Now tell me i’m the one in command.” The older girl couldn’t stop laughing, and her voice enchanted Sansa more than usual. She then realized that seeing Margaery smiling was everything she sought after, everything she desired to see in those past few days of endless considerations and thoughts.

“You are the one in command.” Sansa gave up, resigned. “Happy?” The joy, delight of having the older girl so close to her made her feel really, really good. Her eyes fixed on Margaery, like sparking fire. 

Once the older girl stopped laughing and returned the gaze at Sansa, her eyes took on a sheen. She looked at her deeply, with those big brown eyes that hypnotized Sansa so much. In that moment, little flakes of ice started to fall from the sky and got tangled in Margaery’s hair. The view Sansa had was like a vision, a beautiful, delicate vision that penetrated so hard in her pupils that made her heart rate went up. She then lifted one hand and touched the older girls cheeks, feeling, memorizing the sensation of her cheekbones and her skin. Margaery blinked and started to lean towards her, slowly but gracefully, getting closer and closer to her face. They know felt each other breaths, and Sansa could feel the frequency of Margaery’s gasping was just as fast as her own.

Motionless, Sansa froze and only her chest went up and down, up and down, moving really fast. This was the reaction Sansa wanted, this was the illusion that bumped her reality, the imagination that didn’t let her think straight. 

Margaery stopped just an inch away from Sansa’s face, her mouths were so close Sansa could feel the eagerness increasing, that inexplicable desire. Their noses grazed gently and Margaery closed her eyes, shifting from one side of her face to the other, lightly touching the tip of Sansa’s nose with hers. 

The older girl closed her eyes and their lips nudged. A tide of emotions rushed through Sansa’s spine and collided in her throat, she then closed her eyes as well to absorb every part of Margaery. She grabbed the older girls neck and pushed towards her, opening her mouth and sucking on her bottom lip. Their lips glided each other smoothly, and the contact drove Sansa insane. 

Tenderness became passion, and the older girl slipped her tongue into her mouth, sliding it around Sansa’s tongue, briefly, before pulling away and tracing the outline of her bottom lip with her top lip. She mildly kissed the corner of her lips, and opened her mouth again so that their tongues would touch.

Sansa grabbed the older girl by the waist and turned her over, now resting on her hips and getting on control, hungrily relishing Margaery’s breath. The taste running through her lungs made her realize the overpowering of her feelings, her true self, her heart, was acting voluntarily without stint. It was the type of kiss where teeth collided, ardent and fulfilling, the sweetness of a first kiss.

She then pulled away and she could see the snow covering the ground around Margaery. A cold breeze grazed the skin on her face but the warmth of her closeness with the older girl make it feel like it was nothing. But the realization of how minimal the light was made her snap out of the moment and get back on the reality. Still with a grin on her face, she looked at Margaery with a tender gaze, drunk in her brown eyes. A blissful expression covered the older girls face, and she looked at Sansa, expectant.

“Its late, I…” Sansa said, her voice fading away, she let the doubt fill her for a minute and the moment just ended, abruptly.

“You need to go back.” The older girl completed Sansa’s words. Fixed on her eyes, her gaze seemed thoughtful. She murmured, “I understand,” her voice was cool and she gave her a small grin, “lets go then.” It seemed like she understood, she understood that the moment broke something inside of Sansa and that what it meant wasn’t something so easy to apprehend, it signified a lot of things.

Margaery stood up and offered her hand to Sansa. She took it and stood up, they both walked slowly, almost haltingly, holding hands. Sansa eased and felt solaced, lightened. Her first kiss was everything she’d ever dreamed of, her feelings for Margaery were sincere, and everything that happened just felt oddly right.

Once they reached the entrance of the Guest House, Margaery gave her a kiss on the cheek and let go of her hand. The older girl opened the door and turned around, “Tomorrow Loras will be teaching how to fence to your little sister, if I’m not wrong?” She said, dubious, squinting her eyes and lowering her eyebrows.

“Yes, she hasn’t stopped talking about it.” Sansa replied, smirking, rolling her eyes.

“Oh alright,” she answered, changing her confused expression. _She’s so adorable_ , Sansa thought, “then I hope to see you there.” She finished, pinching her lower lip.

“Yes, of course i’ll be there.” 

 

 

During the night, Sansa couldn’t stop recalling her first kiss. The softness of Margaery’s skin, the touch of her lips on hers, her smell, how gentle she was and she had been ever since she met her. Everything felt right but not quite. And the overpowering contradiction of her thoughts and her feelings made her feel uneasy, breathing faster than normal. She rolled in bed, shifting position every now and then and struggling to find that soothing comfort that would make her sleep.

She couldn’t stop thinking about the next day, how that encounter would be. Awkward? Filled with eagerness? What would the older girl do was a mystery. Have she ever had this type of relationship with a girl? Had she ever been… with a girl? All of these questions, with unknown answers permeated every doubt she had. Margaery was inscrutable, unfathomable, and Sansa wanted to unravel her just as much as she wanted to be with her.

After hours of insomnia, she fell asleep. The reminiscence of the kiss, over and over, calmed her down enough to do so.

 

 

Lady was standing next to her. The direwolf had returned from a hunting spree she and her brothers and sister direwolves had. She was looking at her with her yellow eyes, excited, and with her grey fur stained with mud.

“I will wash you later Lady, don’t think you’re going to stay like that.” Sansa said, stroking the top of the head of the direwolf.

The day wasn’t as cold as the day before. The snow flakes fell in a soft, steady pace, but barely covering the ground. Sansa was standing next to the Great Keep, were Sir Loras was teaching Arya how to hold a sword properly. The young night was radiant, his eyes denoted how happy and cheerful he felt, and even though the little Stark girl wasn’t a patient apprentice, Sir Loras had enough for the both of them.

Noticing people getting out of the Guest House, she saw Margaery. The older girl gave her a side glance and suddenly looked blithe to what their maidens were telling her. She told them something, leaving them peering at her with curious, astounded scowls. She walked towards Sansa and once she was by her side she gave her a leered gaze, curving slightly the corner of her lips.

“You look beautiful today.” Margaery said, greeting her.

A crimson flush spread up on her cheeks, “Thank you,” she replied, looking like she didn’t know what to do with her face, “you also look beaming today.” Even though she had learned to cope with compliments, the effect that Margaery had on her was so _unsettling_. After recomposing herself, she returned the smile.

“So I’m guessing this is your direwolf.” She said, turning to gaze at Lady. “She’s so cute.” A veritable softened look covered the older girls face.

“Yes, her name is Lady.” Sansa replied. Lady was always obedient and she had never grunted to anyone, but she also didn’t like to be pet by anyone except for Sansa. The direwolf tilted her head to one side, glancing at Margaery with an inquisitive look. 

The older girl then moved her hand towards Lady, bringing it slowly, carefully. Sansa studied her direwolf, at this point with other people the direwolf would’ve dodged the hand and walked away, but this wasn’t the case. Margaery then stroked Lady’s face and her body relaxed, loosing the tension, she now pet Lady with confidence.

Bug eyed, amazed, Sansa looked at both of them, “This is… strange. Lady has never let anyone pet her apart from me, she must really like you.”

Margaery straightened up, “I’m charming, what else would you expect?” She said, with a jubilant, cheeky grin.

“Can’t argue with that.” She replied giggling, and took Margaery’s hand, ignoring the pieces of mud the older girl caught up on by petting Lady.

They both turned their gaze to the center of the Courtyard, were Sir Loras received Arya’s thrusts, cutting her movements and blocking her wood sword. Every now and then he would correct her pose and her movements.

“I really liked the Godswood,” the older girl said, a slowness overcoming her voice, “it has been enthralling for me since the first moment I got here.” Her fingers then touched her lips, “It’s really charming, it’s a delight to watch.” She finished, Sansa bit her lip and looked at Margaery, who was fixed on her brother, but with a coy, diverted grin shaping her lips and stare.

Her ears burned hot and the fidgety sensation on her stomach became stronger. Every word the older girl said had an aim, every gesture, graze, glance. And Sansa couldn’t decode her real intentions. But Margaery knew how to dally with her, and Sansa felt contemptuous, flattered.

“So, is it the most beautiful you’ve seen?” Sansa replied. Smiling to a small extent, mostly for herself. She had many questions, and if the way Margaery had made her way to her was by being subtle, then she could play the game too.

“It is.” The older girl turned to her, staring at her directly as she spoke. She didn’t have a grin shaping her mouth as she always did, her expression didn’t look as it always did. There was something different, and Sansa noticed right away. She was peeling the façade Margaery showed to everyone, the big smirk and the condescending gaze, and it wasn’t that the Tyrell girl wasn’t sincere about her opinions or that she wasn’t affable, but the fact that she wanted everyone to like her, she needed it. Margaery was a player.

Sir Loras came up to them, his expression denoted exhaustion, but as soon as he was in front of them his face illuminated, and his gold eyes took on a sheen, just as her sister, he never failed to look courteous, “Your sister is quite a thing.” He said, chortling, “But seriously, she has great potential. More than I’ve seen in a lot of kids.”

Arya also came up, her clothes slightly dirty and breathing heavily. “That was fun.” She said, yearningly and diverted, and she gave Sir Loras a high five before leaving. The knight of flowers let out a long breath, giving Sansa’s sister a flat smile and turning to look at them.

“Thank you so much Sir Loras, I hope she’s not a burden, she could go on for hours if you don’t stop her.” Sansa said, giving him a sympathetic glance.

“Don’t worry about it my lady, it’s my pleasure.” He replied. Little drops of sweat fell from his brow, but he looked as handsome as always. “Sister, we need to go back to the Guest House, our grandmother wants to speak to both of us, urgently.” Sansa’s arms feel to her sides, resigned. Margaery and Sir Loras gave her a curtsy and walked away.

Sansa frowned slightly, but the sudden realization of the significance of what just happened hit her. She didn’t think for a moment about Sir Loras, she utterly didn’t care. When they walked away she stared at Margaery, at her hair, at her pace, she was irritated of the fact that she had to go. The older girl filled her thoughts night and day, and the knight of flowers never really was the focus of her attention.

Sansa eased when they disappeared, she could worry about it later.

 

 

Finishing her breakfast, Robb, her oldest brother cleared her throat and looked at her from across the table. “Sansa, can I have a word with you? Are you busy this morning?” He said, with the deep, solemn voice that characterized him.

The question took Sansa by surprise. “Yes sure, I have nothing planned.” She replied, blinking. She never talked with her brother, she barely exchanged a few words with him, and with everyone lately. Her brother was always busy, training, hunting. He spent more time with Jon and Theon, just as she did with Arya.

They walked to the Great Keep, where they sat beside a tall translucent window. Through it, they could see the courtyard, the Guest House, the Library Tower and distant, the Bell Tower and the stables.

Her brother looked at her with a stone glance, his face was deadpan. Robb was serious and discreet, and he barely showed off his feelings. Just like his father, her oldest brother showed a great sense of honor and courage, and it had been evident ever since he was a little kid. Just sometimes, Sansa could glimpse for a moment her oldest brother laugh, with Jon and Theon of course, but nothing more, most of the time he was cold and expressionless as a stone.

He pursed his lips, uncomfortable. “So, the Tyrells are friendly. Or at least they seem so.”

“Yes, they are indeed.” Sansa replied, nodding and turning her eyes away, looking at the Guest House. Margaery’s vision filled her thoughts.

“Sir Loras is friendly. Do you like Sir Loras?” Her brother queried, with an intrigued, preoccupied look across his face. 

She haven’t talked to anyone about her relationship with Loras, not even with Jeyne, the rumors might spread fast but talking about her feelings was a different field. She felt good, nevertheless, by the fact that her brother seemed to care.

Slightly curving the corner of her lips, amused, she said scornfully, “Why do you ask?”

Robb rolled his eyes, also smiling, _I can’t remember the last time I saw him smiling, wow_. “Well, you know…” He said, fumbling his words, “you know what I mean.” He finished, shifting in his chair.

“He’s nice.” She replied, without changing her expression.

“Good, good.” He said, nodding repeatedly. Robb lowered his eyes, meditative, thinking of his next words as he played with his hands. After a pause he resumed, now staring at her inquisitively, “Then i’m guessing you must know about the rumors.”

“I do. It’s fine really, he’s a gentleman.” She said. It still was odd, strange, talking about something that was so personal, with her older brother. The unfamiliar sensation however, seemed right. Sansa loved her family and even if she had dreamed about marrying a handsome knight her whole life, she’d miss them with her heart.

“I really want you to be happy Sansa,” he stated, “you’re one of my little sisters and I just want you to marry someone who treats you the way you deserve, and more importantly, someone that you really want.” His expression was severe, with a slight frown on his eyebrows, but serene and empathetic nevertheless. Those last few words really made an echo in her mind, _someone that I really want_ , she thought, _Loras isn’t the one I want_.

“Thank you Robb,” she said, giving him a big grin, “I mean it.”

“I know mother talks a lot about duty, but we’re Starks, it isn’t only about that, you know?” He remarked, putting her hands on Sansa’s shoulders and looking at her keenly, engrossed, with his light blue eyes, “And even if she does it with the best intentions, it can be misleading. Please sister, think about it throughly, if marrying Loras is what you really want, then do it, if you don’t like him enough, don’t. Don’t do it because you must, do it because you wish to do it.” He concluded, letting go of her and putting his hands behind his back, waiting for an answer.

Now Sansa was the one analyzing her next words. A million thoughts clustered in her mind, she felt heavy, but she didn’t want to think about it, “You’re right. I’ll think about it Robb, I promise.”

“Fair enough little sister.” He smiled, easing his frown and giving her a kiss on the forehead.

Robb left and Sansa looked through the clear, pellucid glass. Margaery and her maidens had just exited the Guest House and now were crossing the courtyard, headed towards the sept it seemed.

Sansa inhaled deeply and sighed heavily. _Robb is right_ , she thought.

 

 

Jeyne was pouring the wine in their glasses, a bitter, old, dark wine that her best friend had suggested. The day was still fleecy from all the clouds, cold.

Fearful to her response, Sansa had thought throughout the evening every possible reaction from Jeyne. She could be happy, in which case she would value the affection that had grown in Sansa for the Tyrell girl, over the fact that well, she was a girl, and then she could trust her with the emotions and thoughts that came with her discovered feelings. But she could also not have a sympathetic reaction, she could be repellent to the idea. In that scenario Sansa would back off the situation and made Jeyne promise she wouldn’t tell anyone. Later, she would deny the feelings implying she lost interest… something at this point she couldn’t imagine really. The words then needed to be subtle, delivered in a ingenious way so that things wouldn’t come off as harsh to the northern girl or as indecipherable so that she wouldn’t get the hints.

“Do you remember the conversation we had the other day?” Sansa said, hesitant, with a stealthy tone.

“How could I forget about it? Are you going to tell me about him?” The girl replied, glancing at Sansa with a peering look, she moved her seat closer to her, taking on her hands and stroking her skin in a twitchy manner she only did when Sansa told her gossips or tales.

“Yes-“ She started saying, smirking fully but bug eyed.

“Gods! Did you kiss him?” Jeyne interrupted almost screaming, shaking her hands in excitement.

“Well I-“ Sansa tried to reply, laughing, fumbling the words as her cheeks felt hot.

“You did! Gods!” They were both laughing nervously now, and it felt as those days when they were kids, genuine enthusiasm was now filling their gestures. 

In that moment, something snapped in the back of Sansa’s mind. _She’s my best friend, she has been ever since I was a little child, she will understand_ , she thought, shifting in her chair and sighing in uncertainty, feeling confident but with the need of reassurance.

“How was it? Please tell me.” Jeyne said, fixed on Sansa’s eyes.

“It was perfect,” She replied, relaxing with the tone of her voice, getting carried away by the enchantment of her feelings and the thought of Margaery presence, “It was passionate but gentle, sweet and just… filled with emotions you know?” And with every word her voice sounded enraptured and she drifted away from the moment, mesmerized by the remembrance of that day in the Godswood, the little flakes on Margaery’s hair and the look on her eyes.

“I’m so happy for you,” she replied, the tone of her voice now lowering, “you really do adore him, don’t you?” She continued, gazing at Sansa’s eyes with a content, sensitive look. Sansa nodded slightly, smiling blissfuly. “You deserve that and so much more Sansa.” 

Feeling assured, confident now that her best friend just wanted the best for her, her anxiousness lowered. She inhaled a big breath and pooched her mouth as she sighed, troubled by the right words she wanted to use.

“So… tell me more about it.” Jeyne continued, attempting to help Sansa, who just looked tongue-tied.

A little relieved, she replied, “We were at the Godswood and it just… happened.” Smiling at the thought of Margaery’s lips and shrugging, “It’s hard to explain. I wasn’t expecting it at all and we just connected, we fit together. And everyday my feelings just grow, it’s so weird. But I’m happy all the time… I’ve never knew you could feel this way about someone, and that it would have such effect on you.” she paused her rambling to study in detail every gesture and reaction from her best friend, as she knew that Jeyne was an histrionic person, someone who just couldn’t hide what she was feeling truly, “Every little moment we’ve spent together has been just magical.”

Suddenly, Jeyne blinked and her expression turned conflicted, narrowing her eyes and frowning her eyebrows as she spoke, “Wait but, I’ve barely seen you with Loras a few times and,” she peered at Sansa struggling to find the words, “there’s only one person you’ve been with to the Godswood…” She finally said, her voice fading away.

Sansa grew disquiet as Jeyne talked, uptight and uneasy she hold tightly her best friends hands, trying to capture her glance as the other girl looked away. Pursing her lips she decided that this was the moment, Jeyne had figured it out by herself and Sansa needed to get it out of her system.

“It’s not Loras the one I’m talking about.” Sansa stated, Jeyne turned and stared at her intently, set on her eyes, “It’s his sister, Margaery.” Those last words came out of her mouth firmly, without a trace of doubt, she said them clearly, earnestly.

Slack-jawed, her eyes widened at Sansa’s words. She opened her mouth, stuttering without saying anything. She didn’t conceal nor displease or acceptance on her expression. She was troubled, surprised. Still frowning, Jeyne lowered her eyes.

“I know it‘s not at all what you were expecting,” Sansa said, lowering the tone of her voice. Now she was the one trying to snap Jeyne out of her absorbed, lost expression, “just let me do the talk ok?” She took her chin and gently pulled it up so that their eyes would look at each other. Jeyne nodded slightly, not convinced.

Staring at her, Sansa realized for the first time how pretty Jeyne was. She had a curly, long brown hair that fell to her sides, darker than Margaery’s hair, that had a much more coppery, bright color. She was also more pale but her brown eyes stared intently, concentrated and fixed, waiting for her words, and her gaze had its own charm.

Sansa cared deeply about Jeyne, losing her friendship was something that could be devastating for her. She’d feel that loneliness of not having anyone to share your deepest thoughts and secrets with, that could be maddening.

“At first I thought she was just kind and friendly, because she’s just so… likeable.” Sansa started saying, totally soaked up, engrossed in her words, “We talked and I felt a really strong connection with her, it was just a genuine feeling. But I also wanted to spent more and more time with her every time I saw her.” Jeyne still impassive, looking blank at her, “Then I had this… moment with her, and that’s when it really came to me that she wasn’t treating me quite normally, as a friend would, or at least any other girl would.” Sansa stopped and analyzed Jeyne. In that moment the girl let go of her hands and straightened up in her seat, she looked so upright, Sansa felt like she wasn’t taking it well. 

Yet she didn’t move, not even a muscle on her face shifted. Sansa then felt doleful, thinking that Jeyne would stop talking to her. Worried, she resumed.

“That was when I talked to you. I needed to know if everything was just in my head,” she continued, gazing at her best friend profoundly, “and you were right. I felt it, I had a hunch, so it wasn’t imagination.”

The room filled with silence. Sordidly, the desperation was accumulating inside of Sansa, beating up every little piece of confidence she had left. Jeyne was still fixed at her eyes, vacuous and absent at first but then she blinked and she looked at Sansa lively, seeming preoccupied.

“It’s just… not normal.” She finally said, frowning her eyebrows. The look on her face turned repellent, driven off. Her words and her expression made Sansa crumble at last, she felt rejected, and what‘s worse, by her best friend, “You aren’t attracted to men?”

“Yes I am, that hasn’t changed I just…” Sansa replied, rushing her words, frantic. Then the need of reassurance collapsed, “feel that way about her.”

“I don’t-” Jeyne said, standing up, “I don’t know what to say.” She looked uncomfortable, looking away. Sansa stood up as well, and as much as she wanted to hug her best friend and forget her reaction, wait for her to understand the situation and calm her down, the tension that radiated from her best friend’s expression made her think twice. It wasn’t right to push her anyhow.

Jeyne walked away slowly towards the door, Sansa still looking at where she was standing just a moment ago, in shock by the desolation of what it felt like rejection.

“Just give me some space I… need to think.” She said, the tone of her voice sounding dreary. “And don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone.” She locked the door as she left the room.

Sansa collapsed in her chair, her eyes felt watery and she let out a sob, devastated.


	3. Chapter 3

The day before had been just too much. Too much thinking, too much pondering over the talk Sansa had with her oldest brother, who had never approached her before to have a genuine, heart-to-heart conversation where they would talk about _feelings_. The stiffness in the young man’s body language and the awkwardness of his expressions showed how uncomfortable he was, and it made Sansa remember every serious conversation she had with her father, it was like his brother was his duplicate, like a walking portrait of every value and gesture the Guardian of the North taught them, but most importantly all the things Ned was, honorable, kind, authentic, honest…

The softness and the caring reflected in Robb’s words however, dug through the oddness of the situation and her ice wall of defensiveness just melted away. He was right, love mattered the most and the vain, hollow physical attraction she felt for Sir Loras wasn’t enough, even if he was a kind man.

But she did feel different about Margaery. The sparkling, disquieting sensation she felt every time she saw the older girl gulped in her throat anxiously, giving her heart that satiety of emotions and passion she had never felt for anyone, and it also satisfied every dream she’d ever had.

The pondering, nevertheless, was nothing compared to the sorrow and discouragement she felt by the reaction of Jeyne, her best friend, the one she expected to react openly and understanding but who felt short for her aspiration. Still, she didn’t react badly, and after hours of spinning around in her bed the past night and denying every pessimistic thought that emerged in her mind, she came to the realization that the only thing she could do is wait. 

Understand, as well, that it wasn’t something so simple and meaningless, it was something that could shake the values Jeyne had learned since her childhood and the way she saw the world, and it would take patience and passiveness of her and the only thing she could do was give her some space.

Shifting in one of the outside chairs of the Courtyard, she heaved a sigh of dejection while she maneuver over the needles and the wool, weaving little details in the little project she had started after the moment she had with Margaery in the Godswood. It was so special, so thrilling to her, that her fondness for the older girl grew even faster ever since, and giving her a present would be a nice gesture. Plus, it would probably make her smile, and there’s nothing Sansa wanted more.

Bright colors peaked her attention when Margaery charged ahead of her maidens, parading out of the Guest House, their dresses shimmering by the scarce sunlight that pierced through the heavy clouds.

The older girl looked radiant, her head high as she walked. Everything around Sansa’s sight just dissipated, the only thing she could see now was the glowing brown hair of the Tyrell girl and her beautiful, dissecting big eyes that made her crumble. The thoughts in her head just vanished, and her senses awakened by the rush of emotions running through her body. 

She gasped, breathing in, and freezing, when Margaery saw her. The corner of the older girl’s lips curved and she gave her a leered look, to which Sansa gulped. She hid her little project behind her back instantly and returned the smile, shyly, she blushed.

Snapping out of her trance, her expression cooled ten degrees when she saw Jeyne lumbering from across the yard, dragging her feet and walking straight to her, decided, her cheeks colored slightly pink and her mouth curving with a grimace of awkwardness.

When Jeyne stood in front of Sansa, she catched a glimpse at her best friend’s eyes before she looked away with a gawky smile.

Sansa jumped up quickly and strained a little bit while fixing her gaze at Jeyne. Concentrated, she saluted, tittering, “Hi.” Awkwardly enough, she ran a hand through her hair, simulating the gesture she did whenever she felt one of her braids out of place.

“Hi.” Jeyne muttered, glancing up and staring at Sansa.

The air thickened between them and the silence screeched, with the sordid sound of the wind passing through. Sansa cleared her throat with the intention of saying everything she’ve wanted to say the other night but that she couldn’t. _It’s ok, you don’t have to understand. We don’t have to talk about it if it makes you uncomfortable, I just felt like i needed to tell you,_ she’d thought, “I-“ she tried to say, murmuring, before Jeyne interrupted her.

“Wait. You don’t have to say anything, i will do the talking this time.” Confident, Jeyne glanced at her profoundly as she took her hand and squeezed it gently. Her whole expression softened and Sansa recognized the look she felt so secure to, that look of understanding that didn’t need the reassurance of words to feel calm, it was that empathetic look only best friends can give. She smirked fully and hugged Jeyne nimbly. Without hesitation, Jeyne hugged her back.

“Let’s go inside my Lady, somewhere more private.” She muttered in her ear.

Sansa nodded and let Jeyne guide her, dogging her steps and sauntering towards the Bell Tower. Every worrying thought of desperation faded away, she knew Jeyne and she knew that the look she gave her was enough to calm down. Everything was as it should be and everything was perfect.

They walked pass the court of maidens and she glimpsed at Margaery for a brief moment, the older girl was gazing intently to her. Looking stern, the features in her always smiling curvy face were stiff and blank, she was unreadable, but she couldn’t study that quick glance as Jeyne pulled her in to the old building and bustled lithely by the steps and great beams.

 

 

 

 

They reached the third floor, where the giant, bronze bell was hanging motionless. Ropes and axes crossed by every corner and on the roof, there was barely space to walk as no one ever actually got up to that level. Wooden, rusty planks merely stretched to serve as floor and Jeyne stood by the big porthole that was located in front of the giant bell.

She turned around and glowered to Sansa, looking along her best friend’s eyes she could see how the skin around her eyebrows wrinkled. The air thickened between them, but Sansa couldn’t help but feel solaced by the fact that the wait for this conversation hadn’t been longer. 

Overthinking and daydreaming were second nature to her, so every little situation that deviated from normal in her life felt heavy on her shoulders, and changed perceptibly her expressions and mood. She was glad that Jeyne took the initiative and reached for her, waiting for days would’ve drove Sansa mad, anxious, and she was tired of feeling so overwhelmed by her feelings, _with Margaery is enough,_ she thought.

Waiting, Sansa pooched her lips out. Jeyne sighed heavily and scratched her forehead, like measuring her words, she finally said, “I’m sorry i reacted like that yesterday, i came up repellent.” 

Sansa nodded, standing still and just gazing intently to her eyes, “It’s fine Jeyne, I understand.” Even if she wanted to say more, to explain more, letting her best friend talk was the best she could do. She was strongly self aware of her impulsiveness in these kind of situations, and sometimes talking too much just made everything worse.

With a grave, brooding look Jeyne continued, “I thought about it last night. What you said, and i couldn’t find a single reason to why it could be wrong. Love just… can’t be explained.” She kept looking at her impassive though, but Sansa just curved her lips into a big grin, “You’re my best friend and I will support you no matter what, although making myself used to the idea may take a while.”

Nodding blissfuly and excited, Sansa grabbed her hands and pulled her closer, she gave her a big, tight hug that lasted enough to make Jeyne slacken, embracing her as well and patting softly her back. After a brief moment Sansa sighed a heavy breath and pulled back, simpering, “I won’t smother you with it, I promise.”

“Its fine really, but I…” She bit her lips, like measuring her words, doubting. Sansa knew that feeling to well and recognizing it in the face of someone, specially as close to her as Jeyne, was unmistakable. How many times she had paused awkwardly at a conversation she didn’t know how to handle, how many times she had hold back her words fighting with her mother or sister, feeling exactly like that. Overthinking was exhausting, “…but I do wonder what are you going to do now?” 

The question took Sansa by surprise nevertheless, she had suppressed the thought every time it dropped in the middle of her fantasies. A lot of thoughts crashed in the back of her mind, and most importantly she just couldn’t bring herself to think how would her family react, that was something she’d prefer to leave off the table. And if that was the case, the only way she could continue her relationship with Margaery would be as a secret, which would be almost impossible, or out of Westeros… she would have to leave everything and not see her family anymo- _stop thinking_. Her breathing became brisk and heavy, the smile she had seconds ago disappeared and she remembered why she would rather not think about it at all. She just kissed her anyways, _maybe it will pass away…_

“I do not know.” She replied, simply. Her expression turned blank and she felt numb, crushed by the yuxtapositon of the anxiousness and fear by the situation, her effort of keeping those considerations out and the overwhelming, sublime and just out of this world feelings she had just started discovering.

“Oh,” Jeyne said, stroking her jaw as she opened her eyes wide, surprised by the answer, “It’s fine I mean…” She muttered.

“We just kissed so… i’ll just see how everything goes, it’s better that way, right?” Sansa said, panting and looking away.

“Yes.” Jeyne nodded.

An awkward silence permeated the air and Sansa started playing with her fingers. A few minutes ago she wanted to have this conversation more than anything in the world, but now she felt strange, out of place, she didn’t have this type of moments with Jeyne because usually she would understand and there wouldn’t feel like there was such a conflict in her best friend’s mind. Words would flow and hours would pass by like if they were just mere seconds.

The other girl snapped, thankfully, “Yes really. Let things follow their course, its too soon to worry about what might be.”

 

 

 

 

 

She was walking down the long, void hall of the bridge that connected the Armory and the Great Keep, little hits of the wind bumped in the windows and echoed in the empty silence, _plink, plink,_ and her steps that smacked in the stone floor.

The orange tonalities that blended with the icy blues of the northern sky enlightened what was left of the day, the sun was hiding beneath the distant mountains. Sansa didn’t know exactly where she was going, but she wanted to roam around. She wasn’t concerned or disquieted, a big grin spread her lips apart and her cheeks hurt from it. Just by closing her eyes, she could remember the feeling of those soft pink lips touching hers, gently grazing the corner of her lips, that playful, sweet tongue. The strong scent of flowers saturated her smell and she could feel the breath of the older girl brush her cheeks.

She didn’t keep reminiscing for much long, because when she was getting close to the First Keep, she saw Margaery at the other side, slightly tilted in one of the walls, watching her, looking riveted with a leered look. The older girl had her arms crossed and she was wearing a dark brown cloak that covered her almost entirely, barely showing the light blue dress she had underneath. 

Something about the lighting, perhaps the uniqueness of the sight that appeared in front of her, was thrilling, enchanting and lovely, and it made her look at Margaery with different eyes. The tender darkness that was overcoming the room, the black and dusky colors that surrounded the older girl made her look less southerner and more northerner, she seemed less remote and distant, more readable and known to Sansa. The vision then, felt comforting, joyful, and as every time she saw Margaery, she discovered new feelings.

She ambled towards her and greeted her with a broad, genuine, blissful smile that made the older girl also expand her grin.

“My Lady.” The older girl said, giving a slight curtsy. Sansa nodded slightly. “How come I find you in this part of the castle?” Fixed on her, the older girl narrowed her eyes. Margaery always stared at her profoundly, firmly. She’d never seen the older girl turn away from her gaze, not even for a second. Even though she was like that with everyone, for the brief moments Sansa had studied Margaery, she’d discover that the older girl had only looked away from others to look at _her_.

“Well I-“ She stopped for a second, biting her lower lip. Margaery’s tongue traced her lower lip for a moment and she got distracted, her mind was now blank. Blinking, she clenched her jaw and looked up to meet her eyes again and gulped, “-I like walking. It clears my mind.”

“You would love Highgarden then, we have big fields overlaid with numerous and different kinds of flowers. I can picture you really, you’d look really good on southern clothes…” Sansa bit her lip, blushing. Margaery always knew how to compliment her, “I deviated, i’m sorry, I was talking about flowers. Speaking of which…” Margaery slipped her left hand inside her cloak and pulled a blossoming and sprouted winter rose that had the exact same blue color of her eyes. “I got you this.” She extended her arm, offering the gift. 

Sansa’s face lightened up even more than before, the modest, yet thoughtful present that Margaery got for her was breathtaking. _The winter just begun, finding one of these is almost impossible,_ she thought. The flower meant so much more than just a simple gesture, even though Margaery didn’t know. The aunt she never got to meet loved them, her father reminded her of that fact quite often, and to him they were very special. Ever since she was a little child, every winter she’d gather as many as she could and bring them up to him. Secretly, however, she’d make a perfectly rounded, detailed crown that she’d wear for all that she could before the roses got rotten. She’d play in her room, pretending to be the queen of beauty of a great tournament.

Without knowing what to say, she gazed at Margaery gently, tenderly, and hugged her.

“Oh” Margaery said, like surprised, “I’m glad you liked it.” The older girl whispered in her ear, embracing her fully.

Sansa pulled back grabbing Margaery’s hands. She felt both thrilled and grateful, and she absorbed the moment deeply in her mind, trying to capture every detail and sensation of what was in front of her. She wanted to remember it deeply, to cherish it in the future whenever she’d be away from the older girl and she’d want to scape from everything just for a second. To remember these few days that had been like pulled out from a dream.

“Thank you.” She finally said.

Still smiling and analyzing her face, Margaery tittered, “Now that i know that presents make you this happy i’ll try to give you many more.”

They both giggled and their fingers interlaced with each other.

“And what were you doing around here?”

“Just getting to know the castle. I love meeting new places and exploring them deeply.” The older girl replied, blinking wistfully, “…And I found a new hiding spot.” She finished before she whirled on her feet and pulled her, they were walking to the left side of the great circular rooms of the First Keep. Margaery was leading the way like she was the one that lived on Winterfell. 

They strode through, Margaery blazing the trail. Sansa realized where they were going. The Broken Tower. She never went there, the tall building was at the North of the Castle, mostly abandoned. Only visited by crawling rats and lithely cats, and sometimes her brother Bran when he climbed the high walls of the deserted structure. 

Hastening with every step, Margaery suddenly halted, looking sideways at the entrance of the abandoned tower. When she saw that the area was clear, she entered the building and glimpsed at Sansa looking diverted. 

Only a few torches lighted up the sheer steps in the gloomy, murky passages. She remembered the day they played hide and seek, how ironic was that that day she was getting away from her, and without knowing it, everything that happened after spun her world around. Everything started that day, and now there she was, following her, willingly.

When they entered the dark and desolated room of the top of the tower, Margaery closed the door behind them and a blizzard stroke Sansa upfront. She felt goosebumps and an intense shiver reminded her she wasn’t wearing anything besides her long black dress. Precisely, the one that didn’t cover her arms, so she crossed them at the cold. 

The older girl realized instantly and reached nimbly to close the smacking window that danced against the wooden frame, “The weather is always this relentless?” She said, letting loose of the knot that held her cloak in place, she took it off and with a graceful and quick movement she stretched it over Sansa’s back, standing in front of her, she was so close she was almost hugging her.

Margaery’s scent hit her sense of smell once more, the few inches that separated the older girl’s face from her own made her clench her jaw at the same time that her heartbeat rose its rhythm. The older girl tightened the fur by her arms and stood still. She looked at her deeply, upholding her strong gaze and Sansa stared back at her, and as she immersed in those beautiful, unreadable brown eyes she felt like were sparking fire. 

They didn’t move, and they were as close as when they spun over the snow in the Godswood, breaths colliding in a heat that was in crescendo.

“Just in the winter.” Sansa muttered, composing herself and straightening up, bending slightly towards Margaery. She intended, for the first time, something that meant initiative, something as simple as reaching forward to another person. The older girl shuddered a little bit and Sansa caught Margaery’s cheeks blushing, her face appeared beaming and sunny but she still looked firm and indomitable.

Only a few candles illuminated the room and abruptly, Margaery pulled back from her and stepped back, barely sitting on top of a cedar table that was against one of the walls. The swinging flames of two candles that were on top of the table moved at her side, and the shadow of her face and shape of her body danced with them. Sansa was surprised by the gesture and glanced intently at Margaery, studying her, she fitted her own fingertips together, curious, and her eyes veiled themselves with doubt.

“The other day, at the Courtyard…” Margaery began talking, almost whispering. She lowered her gaze to the floor and unexpectedly she didn’t look as confident as she always had, her shoulders loosened and she pressed herself against the table, shifting slightly her position. “You left with a girl…” Her words faded away in the sordid silence of the moment, she lifted her gaze again and strained to see her, for a brief moment Sansa saw her brittle and exposed, before the older girl stiffened and fixed her gaze at her, staring strongly like she always did.

Unforeseen was that instant for Sansa, who caught up on what it meant so quickly it astounded her. The glimpse, as rapid as it was, of seeing Margaery so defenseless and clear rejoiced every inch of her inflamed heart.

“I did.” She re stated, enjoying the situation and Margaery’s uncomfortableness. The older girl pinched her lips together and looked sideways, her fingers tapping repeatedly the edge of the table.

“May I ask… who is her?” She replied, doubtfully, without turning her head. A broad smile spread through Sansa’s cheeks as she casted towards her and lifted her hands briskly, cupping the heart shaped face of Margaery and gently turning her chin so that she would look at her. 

“She’s Jeyne. My best friend.” Sansa said, and the older girl blinked and nodded to a small extent, her face looking serious, like a deadpan. Still smiling, Sansa leaned towards her and their noses grazed, lowering her eyes she looked playfully at her lips, “Why? Are you _jealous_?”

“Perhaps.” She muttered, shrugging. The tone of her voice, as soft as it was, sounded envious and possessive.

Seeing Margaery like that, openly showing her emotions, being so naked in front of her and conceding some exposure to Sansa stroke her deeply. It was something she had felt since the moment she met Margaery, and now the roles swapped. Jealousy, as futile and vain as it was, laid a profound foundation in the older girl’s heart, and to show it proved to Sansa that she liked her just as much as she did. It could easily be misunderstood, but the authentic, undisguised look on Margaery’s face was unequivocal.

Diverted, Sansa slowly leaned forward and nudged her lips against Margaery’s, sucking on her lips, and a slimy sound accompanied the movement that parted the kiss, “You don’t need to be.” 

Sansa reached for her again, biting her lower lip. Their mouths brushed openly and synchronized, and Margaery clutched her by her waist and dragged her closer, deeper into the kiss.

Sansa felt hungry, eager for the older girl, and she cupped Margaery’s jaw with her hands smoothly, tilting her to one side so that she could kiss her fully. She swirled her tongue from down up, dragging it back every time, tasting Margaery’s breath once again.

Margaery pulled back, they were both without breath. The older girl inhaled deeply and asked exasperated, “Why?” And she pressed her forehead against Sansa’s and stared at her deeply, her eyes sparking fire.

“Because I only have eyes for you.” Sansa replied. 

Sincerity had never been her strongest point, but the moment was so special that it felt right. A minute ago Margaery led Sansa glimpse rapidly her interior, she led her saw her _true_ feelings, something that was so private for someone who hid under a façade everyday that it called for something in return. She wanted the older girl to trust her, and to know her inner, true self as well.

A big grin expanded in Margaery’s lips and she closed her eyes, reaching for Sansa’s mouth, their lips nudged slightly, awkwardly, but it felt right because it was _real_.

Margaery parted from the kiss, still embracing Sansa tightly against her body, and when she gazed at her, her eyes took on a beam, “For how long though?” And then her eyes went dull, a somber expression overcame the older girl’s face. “You’re going to marry my brother.” The tone of her voice was lower than usual, sweet and timid, filled with sadness, the broad smile that was shimmering just a moment ago turned bleak.

Sansa gawked slightly, it was the clear confirmation of the rumors that had been a cold truth since the beginning. She knew that Robb wasn’t going to marry Margaery since the conversation she had with him, and every situation that arose in the past few days was as obvious and conspicuous enough for her to realize it.

“I… I don’t know what to say.” She said, still sincere. But those words hurt when they came out nevertheless.

“I’ve seen the way you look at him. You like him don’t you?” Margaery said, her tone still sweet and feeble. Those words reflected her exposed self again, she was envious, but it didn’t sound possessive or playful as before. It sounded dejected.

“I-“ Sansa tried to say, muttering before she made a vague sound in the back of her throat, she gulped and stared quietly at Margaery. She hadn’t thought about it, how could she answer? However, the hopeless, downcast look the older girl was giving her was painful, she couldn’t stand watching her like that.

“It’s not like that.” Sansa finally said, her voice quavering, “I do like him, but he’s not the one I want.” She lifted her right arm and stroke Margaery’s braids softly. Gently, she interlaced her fingers with the roots of the hair that was at her side, she fondled her ear with her thumb. The older girl blinked and gazed intently.

“There’s nothing you can do, sweet girl.” She stood up from the table, decided and confident again, “We must fulfill our duty even if it’s not what we want.” Her lips curved into a small grin.

Margaery was, in every way, unreadable, and it made Sansa confused. Just a moment ago the same girl looked so different, so fragile, and now she was talking so firmly… it was like the mask was up on her face again. She frowned and replied, “What’s that supposed to mean?” Letting her arms fell to her sides she took a step back, the air thickened between them.

“Hey,” Margaery quickly answered, recovering the space that formed between them rapidly, she took her hands. The dynamic between them was like a rough tide, push and pull all the time. “Don’t get me wrong Sansa…” And she bit her lower lip, but holding her gaze firmly, “…I want you too.” She said rushed, trying to catch Sansa’s thoughts before they drifted away.

Little drops started to smack against the windows, and the tension disappeared.

“…But there’s nothing I can do about it either.” The older girl continued. The words hit her, like a sharpened arrow they found their way to her heart, pinching it, inflicting pain. “Women in our position, must make the best of our circumstances.” She heaved a sigh, “Marry him, he’s kind, he’s handsome, he will treat you right.”

She was right. Painfully so. There wasn’t much to think about the situation, they couldn’t do anything really, and realizing it now would save _some_ pain in the future. For the least, she’d live a happy life with Sir Loras and she’d be related to Margaery, they could see each other from time to time. The thought, like the arrow, deepened its wound, torturing her.

Sansa lowered her gaze and Margaery pulled her to a tight embrace once more, fondling the back of her neck and her hair.

“We’ll find a way.” The older girl stated, whispering. Margaery continued stroking Sansa’s back for a while, and she could listen her breath. The sound calmed her down. She then pulled back and nodded almost imperceptibly. “It’s time to go back, it’s late.” The older girl said, giving her a soft, comforting gaze.

_We’ll find a way._ She thought to herself, reassuring the words in the sweet voice of Margaery in her mind.

“You should leave… first. I’ll follow in a few minutes, just so in the case someone sees us, I’ll watch you and be aware of anything.” Sansa replied and the older girl nodded. For a moment she stared at Sansa, fixed at her, studying her. She leaned closer and gave her a soft kiss before she left.

She kept still, gazing at the door that Margaery had closed a few seconds ago. 

_I want you too._

Those words meant so much, and even if Margaery shifted from her true self to her façade so much, Sansa was positive she could distinguish between the two of them. So she was sure now, sure that the older girl liked her as well, that it wasn’t a game, something meaningless. She wanted to go through with it as much as she did.

A big smile curved her lips and she exited the room. Walking carefully, she glided through the steps and allies of the castle, a mix of hope and resignation fought through her emotions. However, the contentment of what she shared with Margaery and what she learned about her, eased her enough to sleep tranquilly that night.


	4. Chapter 4

Sansa woke up that morning at ease. Cold, crisp air filled her lungs, and the interior of the Castle was freezing just as the outside. Snowflakes fell from the sky in a soft, steady rhythm. She’d returned from the Library Tower, where she’d been reading some history books Sept Mordane had given her. She was now wandering through the big allies of the Castle, disconnected, sauntering to get to her chambers. Guards, cooks, and all types of people passed beside her, greeting her, or sometimes ignoring her.

She had always been one to daydream all day, imagining her future, the great castle in which she would live and the endless moments and kisses with the one of her love. Margaery was now the center of those fantasies, just like a gallant knight, the older girl took her hand and guided her in walks through the woods, embraced her in rainy days and kissed her forehead, fondled her back in a tight hug in the beach with the heavenly light of the moon on their heads and sleep tightly in a full embrace with her every night. All those illusions warmed up inside of her, like stuffing on a doll they compressed in her chest and energized her, making her feel rejoiced like never before.

Margaery was gentle and beautiful, likeable and flirtatious and must of all, so confident. But Sansa had managed to drop that veil for some instants, take off her façade and unravel the pile of vine that hold so tight around her true self. Perhaps, she wasn’t so self-assured, so certain of everything and everyone, she was _vulnerable_ and by using that mask everyday she’d made her authentic self distant, and had slowly buried her feelings where they couldn’t be seen. Deep down, they fought frenzied, desperately to get out. She wanted to be the one to kiss her way into her soul, find her way into the trust that she needed. Slowly, she would gain those moments to build up their relationship enough, and Sansa would be _hers_ and nothing else would matter. Not even those dreamy nights in a big castle, red headed kids running around with wooden swords or giant festivals to commemorate her marriage with a great lord. Right now, all that mattered was Margaery, everything was her.

Managing a weak smile and astonished look, she froze when Sir Loras stood up in front of her. Upright and beaming as always, the unequivocal Tyrell smile spread in his lips, making him look radiant and chivalrous.

“My lady.” He said, with a sturdy voice. Sir Loras bowed and took her right hand firmly, kissing her knuckles. She blushed.

“My lord.” She replied, swallowing as quietly as she could. Even though the stirring, handsome look of Sir Loras always made her catch her breath, this time her heart rate didn’t go up, neither her skin tighten up in goosebumps at his touch. Only Margaery had that effect on her now.

“Can I walk with you?” He asked. His face took on a measured look and his body stiffened, showing the courtesy in which he meant the question.

“Of course.” She replied softly, returning the smile and nodding. Sir Loras then offered his arm and Sansa clasped it, assured.

They walked slowly, exiting the Castle and ambling through the Godswood, the sun high above them, hidden by the clouds but covering everything with a pale, white light. 

“You look really beautiful today my lady.” He said finally, turning on her feet to face her. He wasn’t smiling, he looked grave and serious, like the words he was saying weren’t so vain and hollow. He gently pulled up her hand, slow-paced and took her chin softly, “And your eyes, lovely as always. Incomparable.” The comment left Sansa out of words, her mouth hung open after she tried to mutter a grateful response.

He stroke her cheek with his thumb and pulled her hand to his side again. Then continued, “Excuse me if I’m too straight forward. Sometimes I don’t have a filter.”

Closing her mouth, she replied. “No no, its fine.” She lowered her gaze, a pink flush running through her cheeks. 

After a brief silence, she returned to look at him, the wind was pushing the little curls of his hair, small ringlets brushing on his forehead alluringly and golden eyes firmly clutched in hers, “You look a lot like your sister.” She said, and her filter vanished as well. How easy her thoughts disjointed from her body so hung up on the ground, her heart ruled with no effort over her mind and the constant beats that pumped blood through her veins rushed by thinking of Margaery all the time, the similarities were so obvious she could not omit them.

“Really? You’re the first one to tell me that.” He sniggered. “We do smile a lot, but we’re like opposites sides of a coin. You’d think I’d be the lively sibling, but I’m not, at all.” His southern accent was more noticeable than Margaery’s, quick and convoluted. But he did not have such a sweet voice to soften it.

“Who is it then?” She replied, curious. _Probably Margaery_

“Margaery of course. Willas is too serious and Garlan too responsible.” She’d barely seen Garlan since the first day the Tyrell’s arrived, big and bearded, he was like a tall version of Loras. And Willas, for what she knew, was crippled and the heir of Highgarden, so he stayed there. Loras continued with a chuckle. “But please, tell me, what is it that make us so alike?”

“Something in your stare, it’s just… never mind. I really need to get to know you both better.” She replied, shaking her head.

“No no please, tell me, I want to know.”

“You are both so undecipherable, but so nice…” And she chortled.

“Go on.” He said, taking a step forward and grabbing her hands, looking at her completely serious, his expression was just cut by the little curve in one of the corner of his lips. And the way in which he did, reminded Sansa of his sister, and how it felt was intentioned in an odd way, because she wasn’t comfortable, she just wanted to be touched like _that_ by Margaery.

“…I feel so intimidated around you,” she said mumbling, “but I somehow feel comfortable, like I can be myself without reservation.” She paused and sighed, “I just really like you.” And a broad, genuine smile curved her lips, but not for long. 

Loras leaned forward, slowly and carefully, gently, and even if she had the time to react for what was about to happen she froze in that instant, she couldn’t prepare herself for it, she stood petrified while he got closer and closer, with his eyes closed and his breath hitting her mouth.

He closed his eyes and their lips touched, softly and without pressure, awkwardly. Barely gliding each other, their lips nudged for a brief moment. Sansa was ecstatic, she didn’t close her eyes and what struck her wasn’t the discomfort of the physical touch of him, but the fact that she didn’t feel _anything_. The kiss was empty, vacuous, emotionless and it didn’t even have an effect on her body. It was like any other physical contact, and it made her realize how hollow her attraction for him was. It didn’t feel right.

He parted from the kiss and returned to his previous position, separated from her face now just by a few inches. Sansa held his stare, scanning his expression. His face looked calmed and untaught, but somehow distant. Something hid beneath his smiling face and arrogant ways.

“You don’t have to feel intimidated, my lady. I would never do anything to hurt you.” He said whispering, stroking the braids she had made on her sides that morning, trying to copy the ones Margaery had. “We’re promised to each other. And I intend to treat you well. You deserve the best.”

Sansa just smiled, not knowing what to do. She had waited for these moment for her entire life, and yet, there she was, feeling numb, ordinary. How different her first kiss had been, how extremely special and amazing, that every other kiss that she would have would be unmercifully compared to it. 

She broke the silence nevertheless, breaking her timid-self strangely, lively, the words came out of her almost naturally. They were fake, void. “I know, and I couldn’t be any more happier, my lord.” _How easy it is to lie when your feelings aren’t involved. Now I get it_ , she thought.

Perhaps it wasn’t her intention, to just lie so effortlessly. She wasn’t used to it, and even less taught to it. But she didn’t want to ruin what just happened with a rebuff, she didn’t want to ruin whatever relationship was intended to initiate in that moment, because at the end, she’d live with him until one of them died. The thought bothered her and made her shift in her position, her body stiffened at the thought of that life, to live without _love_.

Sir Loras put his arms behind him and looked at her with a big grin, “I will make you happy. I promise.” 

Far and unclear shouts came from behind her, and when she turned, she saw Mordane hastening towards her, lifting her big brown gown that crushed against the snow. “My lord.” She said exasperated, giving a curtsy to Loras, “I’m sorry to interrupt. I need to get you ready for tonight, Sansa, come on.” 

Sansa rolled her eyes, by habit really, because she was actually grateful that Mordane came to save her from the situation, “Thank you for your kind words, my lord.” She said, looking at Loras.

“It’s my pleasure.” He said, taking his hand and kissing her knuckles again, “If you’d like, we could take a ride on my horses some day, I have one that I’m pretty sure is just right for you.” His hand was tightly clasped on hers still.

“I’d love that.” And she slid her hand off, bowing slightly and slithering quickly towards the Castle.

 

 

 

 

 

Robb opened the big door frame of the Great Hall, Sansa, Arya, and her other brothers entered behind him. Candles shimmered brightly hanging at the top of the big columns that stood strongly across the room, and even though outside was freezing, and every wall was covered with the deep white of the heavy snow of Winter, the warmth inside the big room was comforting.

At the end of the room, a giant, large table was presided by her father and mother, and at the other side of the table the Queen of Thorns was sitting next to her son and grandchildren, no maidens, just the nobles.

And there she was, radiant and beatific, always standing out with her beauty and presence. A long, green and gold dress emphasized the tone of her skin and blooming dark brown hair. Her eyes looked expectant, fixed on Sansa since she walked in, and she could tell how her cheeks colored softly at her gaze. She blushed as well, probably more noticeably.

As they all seated down, blaring wooden noises of the many seats grazing against the floor racketed in the room, and Ned stood up, raising up his cup, that was filled with a dark ruby-colored wine.

“Good evening to everyone.” Her father said, gulping to clear his throat to speak loudly. “Today isn’t a normal day. Today I have to let go of one of the most endearing things in my life, my older daughter. She parts, to live the rest of her life.” His words came out slowly and tangled-up, tongue-tied, Eddard was now staring at her, strongly and profoundly. His grey eyes were like tied by an invisible string to hers, and she felt his love so sincerely, that the childish memories from the back of her mind arose rapidly, rushing, and her heart rate went up. She barely smiled back, as soft tears suffused in her eyes and clouded her vision. It wasn’t easy for his father neither, to let go, and all the talks made sense now, the duty to her family comes _first_.

She really hadn’t stopped to think about the fact that her life was about to change. Everything that she was used to, that she’d taken for granted, the company of her brothers, the moments with Arya, the long talks with Jeyne, everything, was going to change forever. She’d leave Winterfell to live the rest of her life, literally, and she felt homesick already. She felt the longing of leaving the life with her family and her home.

“Let’s toast for today. For our guests that have come from so far away, and for the future.” Ned turned to look at Loras, and the gallant young man was looking at him firmly as well. “Today I give to you, the hand and the promise of my daughter, Loras of house Tyrell. Let the old gods bless your marriage and your family.” Everybody stood up, smiling faces at every corner of the table, forced and deceiving some of them, and just a few, Sansa could tell were natural. Margaery however, looked grave and absent. Then the rattling sounds of cups smacking and the wine spilling over the table made her snap and go back to toast with everyone.

The warm, sweet taste of the liquor came down her throat and she eased the tension she built just a moment ago. She then looked around to found Margaery’s eyes again, sparkly and bright, a big grin spread through her thin lips and the pink in her cheeks made her look enlightened. Unspoken words, like a breeze, tacitly formed between them and as people sat down and started to eat she knew it was her way of greeting her.

She chewed slowly, unwillingly, she was away from the moment and the cheers and conversations that happened around her. Sir Loras was sitting right in front of her and a few times he tried to reach out to her, saying kind words or flattering her looks, but she barely answered with a weak smile and managed to mumble a few words in response. She was apathetic, expressionless and evasive at last.

The only person she wanted to talk to had her head in other things. The whole time Margaery was completely absorbed talking to her grandmother, not even bothering to turn around. She understood nevertheless, that the Queen of Thorns was basically the head of the Tyrell family, and they were probably talking about something important. Besides, for what she had learned from Margaery, the older girl was completely determined to fulfill the duty with her family.

That didn’t stop her though. Concealing, with rapid glimpses she tried to look at her as much as she could, her long curly hair and the shape of her face, the soft curves that delineated her shoulders and the bones of her collarbone. She’d lick her lips at the thought of her kiss and the touch of her skin, but as she wasn’t acknowledged, she fumed and went back to her cheerless expression again.

After everyone finished eating, a bard and some musicians started to play music. Eddard and Catelyn danced first and the rest just followed. Jory Cassel, Maester Luwin and the septs, Jeyne… everyone was there now and the celebration began. She danced with her father and brothers, and with Loras most of the time, the night seemed long.

The wine didn’t served its purpose and she had to pretend the whole evening, forcing smiles and laughs, returning adulations with the same vain and false intentions she had used to talk to Loras. Although she did like him that night, he was sweet and gentle, chivalrous and for some moments she’d felt he was honest and his words weren’t so mechanic, or at least he tried.

After dancing way too many songs in a row with her betrothed, she got tired and excused herself, and he then invited her mother to dance The Dornishman’s Wife. She sat on the table and sighed heavily.

Sansa got flustered, bug-eyed when Margaery appeared behind her and kissed her in the cheek. She quickly sat by her side and stared at her intently, grabbing one of her hands underneath the table. 

She wasn’t smiling broadly like always, she looked serious and preoccupied. A slowness overcame her voice when she talked, “Hi. How are you?”

Something warmed up inside of her when she heard those words. She couldn’t help but to smile.

“Not perfect.” She sniggered, “But fine, I guess.”

Margaery smiled and lifted her hand, putting a string of hair behind Sansa’s ear. “You’re not used to keep your feelings to yourself, I can tell.”

“Is it that obvious?”

“No. I don’t think so. But I can tell from miles away when something’s not quite right with you.”

Sansa felt like she was glowing. Perhaps Margaery haven’t been so attentive during the night, she barely even looked at her, but she had been observant. Only she was able to tell she wasn’t alright really.

Margaery drank from Sansa’s cup and finished what was left, which was almost full. Sansa just couldn’t drink more. The older girl then turned to her and shrugged, “If you’re not gonna do it, I’ll do it for you.”

“Please, go ahead.” she said simpering. Sansa pinched her eyebrows, ”Can I ask you a question?”

“You don’t have to ask for permission Sansa, you can ask me anything.” Margaery replied, and the soft dark ink of the wine appeared in the commissures of her lips, temptingly.

Sansa doubted nevertheless, to be so direct. The question she was going to ask almost revealed every thought and perception, _judgement_ was the word, she’d had about her. “How can you do it?” And Margaery tilted her head to her side, in confusion, “…To pretend, so easily.”

She studied the older girl as she blinked and looked away to the people that were dancing. She got silent for a moment before turning back again and holding her stare strongly this time.

“In order to get what I want I need to adapt. And most of the times, in this world, I need to lie.” Her voice was tender and profound, and the harshness of the words that came out of her mouth sounded acute but filled with sorrow. Sansa didn’t know what to make out of them. “Don’t you think, in order to survive, we need to hide what we really feel sometimes?”

“Maybe.” Margaery’s eyes got watchful, curious, as Sansa exhaled and continued. “But eventually, perhaps, you would lose yourself in that lie.” Sansa didn’t break her stare and she waited, patiently when Margaery leaned back.

“Perhaps.” She replied, and her mouth hung open, forgotten. Her eyes grew distant as well.

A few seconds passed by, and Sansa thought deeply what she was about to say. She finally broke the silence and asked solidly, “…But what would be so great, enough for you to lie with such an effort?”

“A lot of things.” Margaery stated.

She understood right away, that Margaery wanted _a lot_ , she aimed high. But Sansa couldn’t help but wonder how far she wanted to go, how many things she was capable of doing. And particularly, selfishly, assuming Margaery wanted her as much as she did, Sansa wanted to know how much she’d be capable of doing for her.

Margaery’s eyes took on a sheen and she pressed Sansa’s hand more tightly. The older girl leaned forward again and her voice came as a whisper, and even with the loud noise of the music and the people talking and shouting, Sansa read her lips distinctly, “I know I could do a lot of things for you.” And the breath of the alcohol and the smell of her scent mixed in Sansa’s nose, making her frantic.

She gasped and closed her eyes. She forgot where she was, and she wanted to kiss Margaery so heavily, so cravingly, that she leaned forward searching for her lips, like her own were never supposed to be apart from them.

Margaery stopped her though, she put her hand on her shoulder and made her open her eyes. The wine finally caught up to her.

“Easy, easy. I’m dizzy too but I still can see the people around us.” She sniggered, and Sansa laughed instantly. They both chuckled and Sansa watched as Margaery’s cheeks got pink and her smile widened up. She wasn’t forcing it like she’d seen her do so many times, and the sound of her laugh was beautiful.

She stopped laughing when she saw Maester Luwin hastening and tripping, evading drunk people and moving couples. The clasped chains that fell from his neck balanced from one way to the other and almost danced, smacking his old, thin arms. He was headed towards her father.

Once he got to him, he pulled a letter from his tunic and gave it to him. He talked rapidly and his expression showed concern. Eddard opened the letter and shuddered when he finished it, gulping, and his face turned sullen. He stared at the Maester languidly, meaningfully.

From the other side of the table, Catelyn went up to them and reacted almost exactly as her father did. Ned then stood up and excused himself from the table, the three of them bustled out of the Great Hall and she didn’t saw them again that night, oddly, as they always found a way to say goodbye and wish her a good night.

“What’s wrong?” Margaery said, stroking her neck gently by one side and making her turn over.

“Nothing.” Sansa replied shaking her head.

The older girl slid her hand off her grasp and put it on top of one of Sansa’s knees, she stroke gently the seams of her dress, gliding her fingertips playfully at the start of her thigh.

“Have I told you how beautiful you are?” She said, and even if her voice was impregnated with the dragging effect of the wine, that magnified her tone and changed her accent, Sansa felt her ears burning hot and the air escaping her throat.

The tingling sensation of Margaery’s hand in her leg didn’t help. It was like the oxygen wasn’t getting as efficiently and as needed to her brain, and she wonder if her body language was so explicit that her reaction was easily recognizable.

“No. You haven’t.” She replied, her voice quavering.

“Come on, I have. Maybe you don’t remember.” She tittered. Her hand moving up.

“I think I would.” Sansa said affirming, confident. And the older girl’s hand stopped at the middle of her thigh.

“There are many ways to say things like that.” She whispered again, and a little smirk traced shyly in her mouth. “But if you want me to be more direct, then I’ll be. I’ll be anything you want.”

The beam in her brown eyes and the motion of her lips caught Sansa so deeply, that the words got printed in her memory, just like the other day when she gave her the winter rose. She was left out of words again, although she had so many of them gulping in her throat that it didn’t seem physically possible.

Sansa just smiled and looked down, biting her lip. She felt cheer and she looked at her again, so drowned in her feelings by this girl she’d just met, so fascinated and attracted by everything Margaery was and everything she said. The older girl locked her gaze for a moment, and it felt like it lasted an infinity.

An old, creased hand appeared in Margaery’s shoulder, making her turn over and take off her hand slyly of her thigh. Sansa turned as well and saw the imposing, yet short figure of Margaery’s grandmother, and she realized there were a few couples left dancing in the center of the room and the music was way more quiet.

“Well little ladies, it’s time to go to bed.” She said smiling, her voice had a tone of taunt but it was fine for Sansa.

She stood up and Margaery did as well, they gave each other a curtsy and walked in the opposite direction, headed towards their chambers.

 

 

 

 

 

Later that night, Jeyne quickly told her about the message her father got, it was from the king, one of her father’s oldest friends. Jeyne saw the message by accident when it fell from Maester Luwin’s hands, she was with her father putting a lock on the door of the Great Hall. Vayon was coincidentally talking to him, and right at the moment Jeyne knew, she ran to the Castle to tell her. 

Robert Baratheon and her father hadn’t seen each other for a long time, but the king asked him to come to Kings Landing as Jon Arryn, his hand, had been killed, presumingly. No one exactly knew what did the king exactly want by making Ned travel so far away. But apart from that, Jeyne memorized the ending of the letter and told her.

_“If Lyanna had lived, we should have been brothers, bound by blood as well as affection. Well, it’s not too late. I have a son. You have a daughter. My Joff and your Sansa shall join our houses, as Lyanna and I might once have done.”_

Now she understood it. She remembered very clearly being a little girl and playing with the snow outside the castle, throwing balls at her little sister and running away. Her parents were watching them and were talking about Sansa’s future, and she’d pretend to not listen. And as it seemed, there may have been some words spoken about her marrying the king’s oldest son, and because she was so little, she didn’t understand right away the importance of that occurrence.

The memory hit her and she got it. For Ned, honor was the most important thing in the world, and the king wasn’t a lemon cake who would forget about past promises. 

She wondered what kind of implications that letter would bring. Just as her father was a man of word, she didn’t think he would break her marriage with Loras, and she also knew that the Queen of Thorns wouldn’t be so compelled about the idea either. But the king was the king. Yet he was also one of his best friends. So there wasn’t anything for sure, and the idea hovered fidgety in her mind.

Sansa stood up until late, turning and tossing in her bed, thinking about her future life with Loras in Highgarden, a place she didn’t even know. So far away, it was far south and even if the idea of living in eternal spring seemed appealing, the people were going to be extremely different. It was going to be a big change for her, a new culture wasn’t something so easy to deal with, specially one that was so different from hers, vivid and joyful. But if everyone were like Margaery, she wouldn’t mind. She wouldn’t mind _at all_.

Then she fantasized about sleeping with her, with the scent of the flowers storming through the windows and the sunlight drawing the arches of the body next to her. Sunbeams stroking the tips and angles of every inch of skin.

The reminiscence of Margaery’s hand gliding up her thigh, and the uncontrollable, maddening desire of wanting to unravel the older girl’s clothes and _feel_ her completely, kept her awake for much more.

Then she fell asleep, murmuring her name.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay guys! This one took so long because I got caught up with uni and I got really sick, so yeah… Hope you like it! :)

The next morning wasn’t as cold or as bleak as the past days. Sansa lively ate her breakfast, anxiously and jumpy, she was waiting for her father, mother, or someone, to come and tell her what was going on.

The sept Mordane confirmed her that Sir Loras would be waiting for her at the Stables, right after lunch, so they could have that ride he promised her… but she didn’t want to see Loras. She remembered the awkward, so void kiss the knight of flowers gave to her, and how something that was meant to be so endearing and intimate felt so draining. The warm, unsettling, overwhelming feeling of a real kiss was diametrically distant from it, and the state of contentment and realization that came with it was unmistakable. So far from what she felt that day, she knew the difference quite well.

Sitting on the stone frame that came out at the side of the window, she stared wishfully to the Courtyard, watching people come and go in the slow hustle of the day. She heard a knock on the door before her father’s deep voice asked to enter.

“Come in.” She replied.

Ned entered the room, his face looked exhausted. “You look really good in that dress.” He simply said, meager but gentle.

She just smiled in response. The growing curiosity started to make her feel nervous.

“Hmm… You’re probably wondering about the letter from the other day. I…” Her father looked at her profoundly, the words came out of his mouth slowly. She nodded, eager to know, “It was from the King. He and I talked way long ago about the possibility of you marrying Joffrey.”

“Oh.” Mixed feelings fluttered in her chest. She had always dreamed about marrying the King, now she knew for sure it was a possibility, and maybe now Joffrey was just a prince, but from what she’d heard he was tall, blonde and handsome, a dream come true. The yearning from the past vanished, nevertheless, due to the much more powerful feeling of desire she had grown for Margaery, she needed to marry Loras, so that she could be close to her. 

Long few minutes had passed and she snapped out of her thoughts by the fathomless look from her inquisitive father. “…So my marriage with Sir Loras is canceled?”

“No, no no no. Not at all.” He replied, chortling. “I’d never break my word. Besides, you seem to fit in quite well with the Tyrells.” Sansa sighed so heavily she had to cough to cover the relief she actually felt.

 _I wonder if he suspects something…_ she thought to herself, wondering how much her father knew her. For the very few words they exchanged when the Starks sat for every meal, they didn’t spend that much time together. Not like when she was little. “Really? How so?”

“I saw you the other day, with Margaery. And I’ve seen the way you look at Loras, you seem happy.” 

Her eyes widened at the mention of the older girl, she swallowed uneasy. She forced a wary smile and looked directly at the peering gaze Eddard was giving her, she knew parting her eyes from his would be revealing. “Yes.”

He sighed, “You may think I haven’t been paying attention, but that’s not the truth.” Sansa shifted her position, slightly frowning, “I always thought you were more a Tully than Stark. Perhaps I’m mistaken, but when I look at you I see so many things from your mother. Your hair and your eyes, your attitude… You will love the south and their people.”

“Father I…” Ned’s eyes turned wistful and evocative, “I’m a Stark.” The next words clogged in her throat, and came faltered, “This is my home, and I will miss you.”

“I know.” His gaze turned gentle and confident again, “I will miss you too. And everyone… I know Arya will miss you the most.” Both laughed, “It’ll be like something’s missing now, the Castle… It won’t be the same. I’ll miss Lady too.”

The direwolf was at the other side of the room with her head tilted to the side, looking deeply into Sansa’s eyes, always watchful. She reached for him and he embraced her fully, locking her with his arms. They stood like that for a moment. Sansa felt fortunate of having him. But she felt strange too, it was like if it was going to be the last time she hugged her father.

“Alright then.” Parting from her arms, Ned held her by her shoulders, “Everything’s settled for us to part tomorrow morning, to Highgarden.”

“Oh.” She nodded dolefully as a surprise of how soon everything was rushing, feeling homesick, without having even left the Castle, “Good, then.”

The air thickened between them, “Lets go eat, you need the energy for this afternoon.”

 

 

 

 

The fire of the chimney crackled at the end of the room. Sansa was looking at the full moon, distant, brightening her bed. 

The day had been rough. The conversation with her father, the ride with Sir Loras… even though she was relieved that she was able to pretend _quite well_ her interest for the knight of flowers, and the evening didn’t end up being as weighty as she thought it would. But it did felt like there was something missing nevertheless. She didn’t see Margaery at all, not even a glance of her walking through the Courtyard, or a fixed stare of hers that could mean so much.

She couldn’t sleep, the nights of full moon she never could. However, if she did, she dreamt that she ran through the woods, watchful, chasing any little creatures she saw in the dark, she’d pant and all of her senses were amplified. Then the howls of her brothers stimulated her and created the sensation of alarm, that made her forget about her prey, lift her ears up, sharpen her sense of smell and go find out the origin of the call.

It was past midnight and Sansa heard sounds outside her door, soft steps that got closer. She straightened up and, attentive, she stared ecstatic at the door.

The hallways of the castle were dismal, gloomy at that time. The darkness loomed, dominant, imposing over the weak warmth of the candles. Sansa imagined someone on the shadows, _who could it be?_ , she thought, restless, uneasy.

The door opened slowly, with a sordid screech. When it opened enough so that someone could enter, like a vision, surprising, radiant, Margaery appeared in the room. While she closed the door behind her and put a small candle she had on her hands carefully at a small table beside her, she lifted her eyes. Her expression denoted composure, but also a small excitement. Her dark brown eyes stared at her profoundly, and with a long sigh, she smiled gently, mesmerized.

“I couldn’t resist myself.” She said, without an explanation, without changing her expression. But that was enough, Sansa didn’t need any explanations.

Sansa stood up and went up to her, a broad smile curving her lips and that fidgety sensation in her stomach arose at the touch of the older girl, as she put her hands on her hips assuringly. Margaery’s eyes traced every corner of her face. In that moment, sounds were heard outside the door, fast and clumsy steps.

“Is there someone out there?” the sept Mordane snarled.

Margaery lifted her hand and put her thumb against Sansa’s lips. Turning her head, she tilted it towards the door. At the other side, the sept also came close and the atmosphere filled with silence. A sordid tension ruled, but Sansa couldn’t help but smirk, she resisted herself to bite the older girl’s finger, which seemed so tempting.

The sept walked away. Margaery turned, glancing at Sansa with an alluring look. Her mouth opened a little, lowering her eyes, fixed now at Sansa’s lips.

“I came because I wanted to-“ Margaery started saying lowering her hand, but Sansa quickly cut her by leaning forward and locking her lips. She sucked on the older girl’s bottom lip and relished in her essence once more. She took a step back and stared at her diverted, with a big grin.

Margaery sighed and continued, “…I definitely came for that.” They both chuckled and stared at each other intently, “But really I wanted to see you before we left tomorrow, who knows when we are going to be alone again.”

“I could sneak into your tent in the middle of the night.” She replied, boldly and amused.

The older girl bit her lip at her response, “Even if that sounds really exciting, I can’t picture you huddling and jogging around. Someone would find you fast.”

“How can you be so sure?” Sansa said, squinting her eyes and pouching her mouth at the statement.

“You don’t look like that type of girl.” Margaery replied softly, carefully dragging her words.

“Is that so?” Sansa opened her eyes and curved her lips to one side, tittering, “You don’t know me as much as you think.”

With a small grin Margaery came closer and swallowed slightly, “You’re making me curious now.” The older girl reached for her, eagerly, so fervent like Sansa had never seen her before. Their lips gazed and Margaery cupped her jaw with her right hand, pulling her onto it strongly. Her tongue was warm and wet, and a soft moan escaped the older girl’s throat.

She parted from the kiss and stared at her intently, “How was your day, beautiful?” She said with the loveliest smile Sansa had ever seen, she blinked and smiled in return, incapable of hiding her content at those words.

“It was fine.”

“Just fine? I thought you spent the evening with Loras.” Margaery replied, crinkling her eyes.

“I did. It's just…” Sansa lowered her gaze, flustered. She blushed, because she didn’t want to say anything that would disturb Margaery.

“You don’t like him?” And her voice turned tender and endearing. But Sansa didn’t say anything. She then lifted her chin so that their eyes would lock, “It's fine sweet girl. You can tell me, I don’t bite.”

“I do, it's just that-” She paused and measured her words, “Not in that way.” She whispered in response.

“Have you kissed him?” The older girl said, and her words sounded faded.

“Yes. Why?” Sansa replied, and Margaery looked kind of uncomfortable, but she couldn’t tell for sure. The doubtful look disappeared almost instantly though, so she couldn’t make any of it.

“Well, a kiss can tell a lot.” Sansa tilted her head to the side, curious, “How did it feel?”

“He was good.” She replied, diverted, waiting for Margaery’s expression in return. And it wasn’t misleading, she could tell how uncomfortable she was, “…But it felt void.”

The corner of the older girl’s lip curved almost imperceptibly, “Oh. Its ok then, don’t worry, it's completely normal.”

“How can it be? I’m going to marry him.” Sansa said, chuckling.

“You are. But in the world we live in we don’t marry someone for love.”

“Have you had kisses like that?” Sansa inquired.

“Of course.”

She couldn’t help to wonder how did she felt when she kissed her. Sansa felt Margaery’s kisses were full of passion and desire, the older girl was tender and soft but she didn’t know what she really wanted. Margaery was so puzzling, even her kisses were misleading.

Little did it last, the doubt, “How did it feel when you first kissed me?” Sansa asked.

Deeply she gazed at her. The few seconds that the older girl was silent felt like minutes, she smiled and her eyes looked like they were smiling as well. This time it felt completely real, “It was wonderful.” She paused, and the smile turned into a big grin, “It was like never before.”

Sansa felt blissful. They both chuckled and all discomfort went away.

The older girl got closer and kissed her intently, her lips barely moved and as passioned Margaery could be, she could be tender and so comforting. Margaery parted from it, her gaze was intense, she then interlaced her fingers in Sansa’s and gently pulled her towards the bed. She walked slowly, with short-patient steps and turned over to look at her fully when they were at the border of the mattress.

The older girl locked her sight on Sansa’s eyes, while she unraveled the simple, yet lovely tunic that covered her. With a light, nimble movement, the fabric slid from her shoulders revealing her exposed body. Sansa panted a little before she gulped, and she didn’t have a moment to look at the older girl before she came closer.

Without a doubt, Margaery lowered her gaze and lifted her hands to untie the little knots of a small thread that circled Sansa’s waist, which tightened her nightgown. Sansa gasped when she felt the light graze of one of Margaery’s fingers in one of her breasts, and her whole body tensed, arms straightened and legs stiffened, trying to hide the trembling sensation that went across her bones.

Lifting the gown up softly, the profound, dark brown eyes of Margaery were fixed on Sansa. The cloth almost fondled her skin before it fell on the ground. She looked at her from down up, gently stroking Sansa’s waist and arms, grazing her skin softly. Sansa felt her heart was going to came out of her chest. With the enchanting, hypnotizing smile Margaery almost always had, the older girl gracefully got under the covers of the bed.

She followed, untying her hair because she knew Margaery would like it. And she thought it worked, when she saw how the older girl’s eyes took on a beam when she did it, riveted.

They were both facing each other, simply lying on the bed. The quiet noise of her breath enthralled her, and Sansa, captivated, studied her features. Her cheekbones, the heart shape of her jaw, her thin lips, the little dimples that caved on her cheeks every time she smiled… She rose her hand and stroke those spots with her thumb, and Margaery closed her eyes, relishing on Sansa’s touch, the rhythm of her breath slowed down.

Sansa wanted Margaery to be a part of her. She wanted Margaery to be _hers_ and no one else’s, she wanted to feel her skin and bones and reach for her soul, soak into her essence and fuse, unite so that they would be one. She didn’t feel so vulnerable and timid like before, and even if it was a big part of her, she found a strength inside of her that wanted to embrace the older girl and never let her go, take care of her and be with her forever.

The kiss was soft and different from every other they’ve had. It wasn’t filled with eagerness and passion, like a fire that burned entire forests down and never ended. It was _longing_ and caring, tenderness and sweetness, like those untamed laughs from her childhood, or the warm, long hugs that made her forget about the thing she was crying for, or the rainy days under the covers of the bed where she felt safe and sunny somehow. The kiss was _love_ , and it couldn’t be denied, it didn’t have a place for doubt.

Sansa wriggled underneath the covers and moved her right thigh, interlacing it between the older girl’s legs. She gently pulled back and embraced Margaery, burying her head in the space between her chin and her breasts.

“I..” Margaery started saying, with a sweet voice that came like a whisper. She grasped on Sansa tighter, “…adore you.”

As the words came out, Sansa tightened her embrace back and smiled upon her neck, “I adore you too.”

 

 

 

Sansa woke up, dizzy but relaxed. The fire was still crackling in the chimney, snowflakes falling outside the windows. The sun could not be seen, the clouds roofed the sky and the natural light outdoors was white, snowy and cold. 

She was naked, lying on her bed with the fur blankets covering her. Still lightheaded, she turned around and looked for Margaery, but she wasn’t there. Only Lady was standing next to the door, looking at Sansa with a wistful, cheerful look. The golden eyes of the direwolf were scrutinizing her own. 

She wondered how did Margaery left without waking her up, she had always had a soft sleep. But all she could remember was the embrace of the older girl, fondling her skin, kissing her…

Cutting off her thoughts, the sept Mordane entered the room, rushed and with an impassive look. She always entered that way, hurrying Sansa to get ready.

“It’s time to get ready Sansa, you won’t be later again for breakfast.” The older woman said. Yawning, Sansa sat up and with an idle look and slack manner she let the sept dress her up and brush her hair, “Why in the name of the Gods did you sleep naked Sansa? What were you thinking?” Sansa’s eyes looked past her, indifferent, looking haggardly and sleepy caused by the past nights of insomnia she have had, and specially that one night. “Never mind. Hurry up, we need to get you ready.”

“Yes, sure.” Sansa replied, with a blithe expression. Even if she looked heedless and serious, inexpressive, in reality she was beaming on the inside, blissful and joyful, last night had been just as dreamy as it could be. She could only think about Margaery’s skin grazing her body the night before, her lips and her embrace, and her scent impregnating the bed.

An inexplicable, exhilarating feeling was firing up inside of her, filling her breath, her thoughts, her mood, even her physical disposition. Not to smile was taking all of her energy, as she didn’t want to look strange to the sept, to which she always appeared expressionless, or maybe even annoyed by her constant telling offs.

“Alright.” She replied, gazing at Sansa from down up to check her dress. She adjusted a few things here and there. “We’ll have a big breakfast, to farewell the Tyrell’s, and… you.” The voice of the old woman quavered and she looked down. Sansa glimpsed quickly the sadness in her face, and for a brief instant she felt a gulp on her throat. After all, Mordane had shared so much with her, and after she leaved to Highgarden, she may never see her again. “…You’re beautiful my lady. You are so courteous and attentive, everyone will love you at Highgarden.” She sniveled and her eyes filled with tears. Sansa felt a little sorry for the old woman, she’d miss her too.

Sansa reached for the sept and patted her shoulders, awkwardly but soothingly, trying to comfort her. “Thank you for bearing with me.”

In that moment, her mother entered the room with a sympathetic look. The sept stood up and walked towards the door, “I’ll take her from here.” She said, and the older woman left the room cleaning her cheeks for the few tears that escaped her always grave eyes.

“Are you ready?” Her mother said.

“Yes.” _I think so_. She gazed timidly at her mother, expecting her to capture the doubt in her voice, but she didn’t.

They both started walking down the corridors to the Great Hall, to which might be the last meal Sansa would _ever_ have in Winterfell. 

Stopping at the imposing doorframe of the Great Hall, Sansa looked lively at the carved figures on the oak, howling wolves and weirwood trees with their big disturbing faces. She didn’t move, and her mother wasn’t saying anything either.

After a while, Catelyn said, “Whenever you are ready Sansa, I’m with you.” And her mother grabbed her hand, holding it lovingly. Sansa sighed heavily and pushed the door.

 

 

 

Once the two families finished breakfast, Sir Loras stood up hastily and offered his hand to take her out. Everything was settled and packed in the carriages. She spent all the evening before preparing them, before Margaery came to her bedroom, she thought she would never agree to move again if that meant to pack so much. 

They were almost getting to the door when Sansa saw Jeyne in one of the corners of the big room, she was looking at her timidly and wistfully.

Turning to her side, she made Loras stop and pulled a bit from his grip, “Excuse me Sir Loras, I have to say goodbye to someone.” Sansa said before walking away to the corner where her best friend was standing.

She was rigid and with her arms crossed, so close to the corner it was almost like she was forgotten there, “Jeyne.” Sansa said, when she got close enough.

“My lady.” She replied simply.

Blithely, Sansa smiled and hugged her, embracing her for a few seconds. Long it had passed since the last time she hugged her friend, they were younger and hierarchy didn’t matter at all. She felt Jeyne firm and rigid at first, but she finally yielded and embraced her back. 

Parting from it, Sansa locked her eyes in Jeyne’s, “I will miss you so much. You were like a sister to me.”

Jeyne stared back at her with a nostalgic look on her face. Despondent, a few tears escaped her eyes, “I will miss you too.”

“I’ll try to write to you Jeyne.” She replied, and her best friend just nodded in response, wiping the tears from her cheeks. She smiled back at last and Sansa thought that she would never see her again, the distance and the time would separate them inevitably, and she just wished that she would be happy.

“I arranged the thing you asked me.” Jeyne said.

“Oh. Great.”

The air thickened between them and Sansa felt awkward for a moment, because after all, she knew Jeyne wasn’t completely comfortable with her situation with Margaery, and she had asked so much from her in just a few days, acceptance comes gradually nonetheless. But she also felt pressured unconsciously by the fact that her mother and the sept probably had their eyes on her trying to rush her goodbye.

“I hope you find happiness Sansa, I really do. With the one you love.” She said, snapping Sansa out of her thoughts. 

A smile curved her lips and she felt a brush of fresh air went over her lungs, “Thank you Jeyne.”

With that said, Sansa walked back to Sir Loras turning her head once in a while to catch a final glimpse of the girl who grew up with her.

He was standing with her father talking about things she didn’t understand, before she took on his arm again and walked towards the door.

The South Gate was full like never before, every little corner was occupied. The moment the people saw Sansa everyone started clapping and cheering, it was how her mother had described the day when she was born.

She walked tensely by the muddy and snowy ground, Loras was waving at every direction while all she could think about was the multitude of eyes that were staring at her, she felt observed, judged. She eased however, when she remembered those beautiful brown eyes that were behind her. She wouldn’t mind if Margaery looked at her for hours.

A big carriage hatched with the wolf of the Stark banner awaited for her. Sir Loras helped her to get inside it and gave a curtsy to her before leaving to his carriage. Her mother and father entered a few seconds later, the leading carriage was presided by Mace, Alerie and Olenna, in the next one Margaery was with her maidens and Sir Loras choose to ride his horse for the day.

The carriage was simple and the seats were alright, she had never been in one made for big trips so she didn’t know what to expect.

After a while, the claps and cheers became a distant whisper until they disappeared.

The day felt long and boring, it went by with nothing extraordinary. The lands that could be seen from the carriage were much similar from the ones that surrounded Winterfell, and the short conversations she had with her parents felt awkward and tedious.

By the end of the afternoon, the carriage stopped and the Tyrell servants began setting up the tents. She didn’t saw Margaery or Loras for what was left of the day, they were probably just as tired as her and had dinner early.

 

 

 

Sansa woke up feeling drowsy and somnolent, and she barely moved when the maidens that came with her mother dressed her and got her hair done.

While at breakfast, one of Margaery’s maidens came with a message in which Loras invited Sansa to spend the ride of the day in his carriage. She asked Catelyn if she could, and her mother gave her approval rather easily, Sansa was surprised but she could almost tell she was kind of relieved too.

She followed the maiden through what was left of the camp and she got to the golden rose hatched carriage. She entered and looked amazed at it, it was long and bigger than the Stark’s, at the sides there were velvet seats and red cushions, everything looked cozy and warm. Margaery was sitting at one side, by the end of the carriage, and Loras was in front of her.

“My lady, my lord.” She said, giving them a curtsy. They bent their heads slightly in response. Sansa sat beside the older girl, where she could see through the clothed windows.

“I asked my sister to accompany us, I thought it would be inappropriate if I were to be alone with you, my Lady. I hope you don’t mind.”

“Oh no, not at all.” She replied. _Little could you know how much I don’t mind._

Margaery smirked, “We really get along brother, it would be like if you weren’t even here.” She said sarcastically. They all chuckled and the Carriage began moving.


	6. Chapter 6

She gave a few steps confidently towards Margaery, but she froze. Just a step away from the seat at the corner that was right beside the older girl, she remembered Loras was actually there. 

Hesitating for a second, she was starting to move to her right but thankfully Margaery spoke, “Sit next to me Sansa, Loras will fall asleep before you can even settle.” She said jokingly.

In many ways, Margaery was so much like her grandmother. Olenna Tyrell was determined and shameless, she said whatever came to her mind and she knew how to dominate every situation with her sharp tongue. The older girl had all those traits, but she was more polite about it.

She had a small, unconscious fear though, that the girl to which she was falling so madly in love with used her enchanting words to manipulate her. _It can’t be like that._ the words resonated in her mind, reminding her of the sweet words that the older girl breathed when they slept together. _Roses can be beautiful and enchanting Sansa, but if you hold them too tight you might get hurt by the thorns._ The voice of her mother reminisced.

She turned to her left and sat beside Margaery, it was weird though, that she didn’t felt that fluttering sensation she was used to. She felt different, blissful.

The carriage began moving and the constant smacks of the wooden wheels against the stones and the lumpy ground made her jump every time, losing her balance and moving her closer to Margaery, sweaty hands were her own trying to keep equilibrium while grazing the older girl’s dress.

“So, tell me my lady, are you excited to see Highgarden?” Said Loras, he looked gallant and handsome, and she coudn’t help to blush whenever he said my lady. _It’s just a reflex, perhaps?_

“Yes, of course.” Sansa replied, pausing and turning to look at the older girl, her eyes were soft and inviting, hands resting on her lap and back straight, it was almost bizarre that those hands weren’t touching her in some way, “Margaery has given me quite high hopes I’m afraid.”

“I don’t have a single doubt about it, it’s meant for you.” Margaery said, smirking and holding her gaze.

“I don’t have a doubt either.” Sansa said, smiling in return, getting lost in her eyes.

“Do you like flowers, my lady?” Loras said, snapping her out of the trance.

“Undeniably,” She turned with a disoriented look, trying to focus on his eyes, “I used to spent hours looking at the ones of the Glass Garden in Winterfell.” She swallowed the little lump in her throat by saying that last word, and finally encountering those bronze eyes of the knight of flowers.

“It is said that you can smell the essence of the thousands of flowers and trees that load the castle and its surroundings.” Margaery said quickly, almost stealing the words from his brother’s mouth.

“Are you serious sister?” Loras fused, “That’s a little unrealistic.” and he smirked, “That’s a thing of her, inflating everything she talks about.” He kept talking, with a quirky smile that made her sister chuckle. It was much to Sansa’s amusement, seeing her blush and turn her head almost in embarrassment, “When we were kids she was responsible of every gossip that flew from ear to ear in Highgarden, it’s like she was born with it.” 

Margaery covered her face with her hands and chuckled for a moment, before gazing at her brother again, “Come on, not all of them.” She said.

“Truly, I don’t know how she does it. She knows her ways with words, she just makes everyone around her mesmerized.”

“You’re making me look terrible brother.” Margaery said, her voice came out faltered by her small and fading laughs.

“You need to give us your secret.” He replied playfully.

Sansa giggled and gave her betrothed a quick conspiratorial glimpse, “We’re two against one, how could you escape this one? Tell us.”

“I won’t tell you, I’d lose my charm, moreover, what could you possibly do?” Margaery said, still spilling her words chortling.

“I guess we could tickle you until you told us.” Loras said, “It never fails.”

Sansa giggled and looked at the older girl coyly, she raised an eyebrow, “I won’t be merciful.”

The three of them laughed and Sansa forgot every concern she had by leaving Winterfell, such a little moment like that made her realize change doesn’t necessarily means affliction, it could mean happiness and growth. Perhaps she found her place in the world.

“But honestly sister, I was never as close to Willas or Garlan as I am with you. I guess you’re likeable by nature.” And his voice became a whisper, “Don’t tell them, but you’re my favorite.”

“You’re mine too.” Margaery replied, all giggly.

Sansa looked at them quite astonished, even if she had a good relationship with all of her brothers, and not so good with Arya though, those relationships couldn’t get nearly as close to the one she was seeing in front of her. _I’ve never had that._

The rest of the morning the strong, stumble movement of the carriage didn’t let them talk as clearly, and Sansa was way too dazzled with the landscape. They were slowly getting away from the north, the snowy risks she used to see every morning where now too distant. Many forests and small villages passed by them, as they were getting close to the Twins.

They ate a little before noon, without stoping. Loras fell asleep quickly after, he said he felt dizzy. Sansa was lying on the long velvet seat, facing up and resting her head on Margaery’s thighs while she stroked her hair. It was so soothing, and she felt so calm she almost thought she was dreaming awake.

“I made you something.” She said, opening her eyes and standing up. A little bag was in the corner of the Carriage, just as she had planned it, she reached for it and pulled out a big cotton quilt. She’d spent the last few days weaving it, it was square-shaped not too big not too small, just perfect for one person or even two.

Margaery’s eyes took on a beam, a soft smile curved her lips and her expression looked ecstatic. She spread it out in front of Margaery and her eyes focused strongly on the outline of the cotton, it was a big red rose with a big harp behind it. 

“I don’t know what to say.” Covering herself with it, she stroked the fabric, “It feels so soft…” Smiling, she extended her arms and hugged Sansa. “I love it.” She whispered in her ear, sighing and leaning her head so that the older girl’s lips would almost touch her neck, just right on top of the strings of her hair. She breathed softly on her arms and Sansa felt so elated. Love wasn’t only desire, passion or strong fondness, it was also discovering, and the feeling of contentment she felt by knowing she made Margaery happy was amazing.

“No one has ever made me something.” Margaery said, and her arms were so tight around Sansa she could almost sense her heartbeat. She suddenly wondered how her childhood was… she wanted to know more about the woman in front of her. The strong confidence and her imposing persona could convey so many things, but the relationship she had with Loras was something that helped her see much more than before.

“Thank you.” She finally said, dragging her head back a bit. 

Their faces were a few inches away, and Sansa quickly stole kiss from her mouth, “I’m glad you liked it.”

Their breaths blended before Sansa drew herself back and leaned forward to rest on her lap again. The rest of the evening Margaery told Sansa about every house of the reach, the rivalry between the Tyrell’s and the Florents, how wide and amazing the castle of Hornhill was and how astonishing Oldtown seemed the first time she visited it.

 

 

Sansa didn’t remember how she fell asleep, perhaps when Margaery began to stroke her face, tracing her eyebrows, caressing her skin and pinching her cheekbones. The older girl woke her up and Sansa’s eyes opened up smoothly, it was dark and barely illuminated by some few lights outside. Blinking, she slowly sat up with the help of Margaery, her warm, soft hands were holding her and prevented Sansa from falling to her front.

“You really have a heavy sleep, don’t you?” She asked.

“Totally,” Sansa modestly replied, trying to find her bronze eyelids in the gloom, “is everything set out for the night already?”

“Aham.” The older girl simply nodded, pinching her lips and smiling slightly.

Sansa smiled in response and turned to her left, looking for Loras, “Thank you for inviting me.” but he wasn’t there. She turned to Margaery with a disoriented look on her face.

“He left a few minutes ago. He didn’t want to wake you, so I told him I’d give you his good-bye.” Margaery said, almost whispering.

“Oh alright.” She simply replied. Margaery leaned forward a little bit and before anything happened, before Sansa would fall again in that chasm of delight, she suddenly remembered the last thought that went through her mind before falling asleep, “You really are close to Loras.” She said quickly, abruptly.

The question almost took Margaery by surprise, as the teasing look she had on her face vanished, “Well, we tell each other almost everything. I know his secrets,” and with a little chuckle she continued, “and he knows nearly all of mine. He’s my best friend.”

“I see.” Sansa replied, and the qualm that brought her response made her uneasy.

“What is it that you really want to ask me Sansa?”

The older girl held her gaze and her look was earnest, not one hint of a smirk. Margaery read her so well, she thought she was like an open book for her.

“Does he know?” She said with a soft voice, unsure.

“No, I haven’t told him.” Margaery replied, confident.

“Why?” She asked, and she felt like she was letting loose of the uncontrollable feeling of curiosity she always felt she needed to release.

“Because he…” She paused, biting her lower lip. Her confidence dissolved, and Sansa felt she was holding onto something, “I don’t think he needs to know, it would endanger your relationship with him.” She finally said.

“Oh, yes, of course.” Sansa replied, nodding assuringly and looking away. Margaery haven’t told her _best friend_ like she would’ve thought, like Sansa actually _did_ , she felt uncomfortable and dejected, because perhaps everything meant much more for her. The older girl probably have had a lot of girlfriends like her, she kissed like heaven and that couldn’t be by chance. Or well… whatever the case, she couldn’t make anything of it, as always.

“Come on, just ask me.” Margaery said, and Sansa felt goosebumps when she felt Margaery’s hand softly turning her head and capturing her eyes. 

Sansa blinked and inhaled deeply, “Nothing, really.” And she forced a smile.

She looked around and realized the carriage was closed, the curtains had been down all the time. Without any warning, Margaery grabbed her hand and glide the other one to cup her chin, gently tilting her head to the side so their lips would nudge. The older girl traced her lower lip through the corner of Sansa’s, brushing their lips together, she sucked on them and grabbed her by the waist, pulling her close. 

The kiss lasted a few minutes before Margaery stopped, and just like that she melted on her arms, defeated. 

“Good bye.” Margaery said in a susurration.

Sansa took a deep breath and replied,“Good bye.”

How bad she really wanted to stay with her for the night, cuddle in her embrace and ask her everything she wanted to know so that the voids she felt were separating them would be fulfilled. But most of all, she wanted the mistrust she felt whenever they talk to be gone.

She forced a smile again and took a last glimpse of Margaery, the few shadows of her features formed a smile. And with a fast, almost stolen kiss she stood up and got out of the carriage.

 

 

 

She dreamed she was running through the woods, Lady was behind her and the snowflakes tangled on her carmine head, heedlessly chasing something that seemed so far away. She was barefoot but she didn’t feel cold, she didn’t feel breathless like when she normally ran, and slowly the trees let loose of the snow and turned leafy and emerald. Lady disappeared, she froze, and suddenly she couldn’t remember what she was going after.

Catelyn woke her up, mind jumbled, she turned to see her mother.

“The Tyrell’s offered to have us for breakfast Sansa, lets dress you up.” She said, while her maidens hovered over her and stood her up. Her eyes hadn’t even opened up completely just yet.

After a while, she was ready and dolled up. She looked at herself in the tall mirror on the corner of the tent, smiling, she thought of last night. Her lips and tongue remembered the contact and taste of Margaery.

“You look perfect.” Eddard said, appearing behind her and kissing her head, “Lets go.”

When she got out of her tent, Sir Loras was waiting for her. Tall and gallant, his brown curls tangled and moved, pushed by a little flurry. She took her arm and gave him a small curtsy, just a few seconds later they were outside the Tyrell tent. There were two lofty knights, guilded armours and long darthmouth green cloaks that fell from their wide shoulders. When Sansa was close enough, she couldn’t tell the difference from one to the other, “Who are they, my lord?” She asked gently.

“My grandmother’s personal guard,” he told her, “their mother named them Erryk and Arryk, but grandmother can’t tell them apart, so she calls them Left and Right.” 

She saved her chuckle.

Left and Right pulled the fabric doors and as they entered Margaery came up to them, “I’m so pleased you could join us, lady Sansa.” She greeted with a smile, her eyes sparkled and the touch of her hand against Sansa’s arm made her smile.

Behind her, a big table rested on the center of the tent, replete like a feast it was, with figs and apples, other fruits and different types of cheese, bread and cakes and everything Sansa liked. Mace and Alerie were on one side of the table, Garlan next to them, and on the head of it, Olenna Tyrell rested on her seat with the the same curved lips that traced that smile from the Tyrell’s, her blue eyes studying Sansa’s. She felt a little intimidated.

The borderline of the sun was still kissing the top of the remote trees. The tent was colored with gold and green, roses were knitted on the sides and real ones rested on the corners, filling the air with that unmistakable smell. Sansa gave a curtsy in direction of Mace and walked towards the Queen of Thorns, she tried smiling in the same way she’d seen Margaery do countless times.

The old lady smelled strongly of rosewater, she stood up, “Kiss me, child,” lady Olenna said, tugging at Sansa’s wrist with a soft spotted hand, “It is so kind of you to sup up with me and my foolish flock of hens.” 

Sansa turned her fake smile into a little smirk, after kissing the old woman in the cheek she replied, “Thank you for having me, my lady.”

Margaery sat at the left of her grandmother, and Loras sat in front of his brother, leaving one seat next to Olenna for her. She sat.

“So…? What are we waiting for? Do I have to tell you everything?” The Queen of Thorns said to the maidens and servants, they hustled around the table and began pouring wine in everyone’s glasses, serving the food and hastening in every direction at Olenna’s looks.

Garlan and Mace seemed to be absorbed in the conversation they were having with Ned, and after a few bites of some banana cake, Alerie suddenly said, “Is this the first time that you’ve gone south, Sansa?” Looking earnest but with a hint of a smile. Definitely, Margaery had taken most of her personality from her grandmother.

“I’m afraid I’ve never gone too far away from Winterfell, but I’ve always wanted to.” Sansa replied happily.

“Well, it won’t disappoint you. Highgarden lives for its reputation and goes beyond it. The wedding will be the most beautiful no one has ever seen in the seven kingdoms.” Her mother in law replied.

“I can’t wait to get there…” She replied simply, holding her grin, “And I must admit, since I was a little child I dreamed of my wedding and I couldn’t have imagined it would be in such a perfect place, with such an amazing man.” She turned to look at Loras, who was staring intently at her, he grabbed her hand that rested on top of the table.

Her mind wandered for a second. Her body was there, but her mind and heart were absent, away, missing from the moment. She didn’t love him. She wanted Margaery, and the act that she was pulling was such a confrontation to the reality her mother had always been trying to talk to her about.

“Ever since I first saw you I liked you little girl, you’re beautiful and charming, so much more sunny than your father and brothers. I was afraid, I must admit, that I would be marrying my grandson to a frigid woman, just like the snow that surrounds your castle.” Olenna said softly so that Eddard and Catelyn wouldn’t hear, almost clasping her from her wandering.

“Mother,” Lady Alerie scolded.

The Queen of Thorns turned to look at her daughter in law, almost annoyed, “Hush, Alerie, don’t take that tone with me. And don’t call me mother. If I’d given birth to you I’m sure I’d remember.” She sighed and turned to Sansa again, “And you seem to get along pretty well with all of us, Highgarden will suit you. But please, don’t take upon Margaery’s habits, she smiles so wide sometimes I fear she’d stay like that forever.”

Margaery pinched her lips and smiled sarcastically at her grandmother while continuing to chew the apple she was having. Sansa had been having a hard time focusing on the older woman when she could see on the side of her sight Margaery’s mouth opening before every bite.

“Well, it wouldn’t bother anyone.” Loras said, in jest. Everyone chuckled. _Not me for sure_ she thought dreamily.

After some time, everyone stood up and got out to get ready for the day ahead. That morning Loras offered to ride alongside her mare, they were going to cross the Twins and she wanted to see the river lands in which her mother grew up.

She mounted _Snowflake_ and a soft touch on her leg took her by surprise. The Queen of Thorns looked at her from below. She somehow managed to make Sansa feel like she was taller than her saddle. “You will be part of our family now, Sansa.” She said with a little smirk, “I don’t doubt you will fit in, but I really hope you can stand the heat of the south.”

She opened her mouth, but no sound came out, she didn’t know how to respond.

“I’ll have your back, it’s fine.” The older woman finally said, winking an eye to her. She turned her back and walked to her carriage, Left and Right behind her.

 

 

 

A soft drizzle fell upon her shoulders and head. She’d covered herself with her long blue tunic. The long grey, gold and green retinue that filled the king’s road with wolves and roses sigil’s moved languidly, slowed down by the mud of the ground.

She turned to look at her fiancé, “It’s crazy how different everything is. The trees, the people,” riding during the day they’d encountered a few people carrying carrots and potatoes, furs and fruits, their features looked softer and their skin was almost swarthy. They waved lazily but politely to the procession, much to her astonishment. In the North, farmers and traders barely looked at other travelers they met, “even the smells are different.”

“And there are way more things that are different my lady. You can’t imagine.”

They smiled to each other. No matter how hard she tried, she didn’t feel anything for Loras. She was compelled by his personality, he was brave and charming, so much like the heroes in the stories, so handsome. But she didn’t know if she could ever grow to love him, she couldn’t think past Margaery, and more importantly, she didn’t want to.

She had a perfect life imagined in her head when she was a little child. A life that would make her happy. All of that fell apart pretty quickly.

The mountains weren’t as big and tall as in the North. Plains, forests, large rivers, small hills was everything she saw, but the colors were new to her. At some points in the road the faraway towers of the Riverlands castles stood imposingly.

She turned to look at Loras, his damped curls glued to his face, and his gold and ruby colored doublet mixed well with the fur of his horse. She saw the same jawline she had seen in his family, she saw the same demeanour. 

“Margaery and you are so much like your grandmother.” She said, contemplative.

“In what sense?” He said pinching his eyebrows together a bit.

Sansa replied with a soft, saved giggle, “She intimidates me.”

“You take more upon the bad things of the ones who raise you. But you know I keep my words unsharpened.” He laughed.

“Then you think like her but you don’t say?” She answered widening her eyes.

Continuing his laugh, he touched her arm affectionately, “No, no. I mean, we may have similar impressions of things, it’s part of our culture. But I still differ from her in so many things, for starters I would never talk to my mother like that.”

“Me too.” This time she laughed as well. When both their chuckles faded and just the smiles remained, she continued, “But I still feel kind of daunted of what I may say around her.” 

“It’s normal. We all do. But don’t be afraid of her, she has a soft spot for her family.” He said, winking an eye to her.

“I see.” And sighing she winked an eye at him in response, “I guess one day I’ll find yours.”

A big grin formed upon his face, “One day.”

They rode through a small forest surrounding the road, pines and bug noises packing the atmosphere. The sun started to turn to that dusk orange color, she could tell even if the dusky clouds hid it. Lady had been running through the woods, just a few meters away from her. The direwolf was always near her, she felt her.

“I can’t imagine Margaery having one, though.” She finally said, the point where she really wanted to get to.

“Oh she has it. Don’t doubt it.” He said assuringly.

“Like if she would show anyone but you.” She replied, also confident.

“Margaery wasn’t always so close to me.” He said, taking her by surprise. He pulled the bows to his side and gave the horse a small kick in his left stirrup, getting closer to Sansa,“When we were kids we played and listened to our maester lessons, but she spent most of her time with the daughter of one of father’s guards. Ella was her name.” A hint of smile curved his lips, he looked afflicted, and his voice became a rustle. He knew Margaery was just a few meters behind them, “She shared her bed and their laughs were so loud I got annoyed so easily around them.”

The air thickened between them and the drizzle turned into rain, the drops became heavier, “And what happened?” She said shyly.

“Her father died in a quarrel. My father assumed the role of guardian to Ella, and he married her off to a good lord from the free cities.” The soaked fabric felt heavier on Sansa’s shoulders as she listened intently,“We never saw her again.”

“That’s…” What were the right words in this situation? Mace did his duty, “sad.” 

“One night I woke up by these strange distant sounds.” He looked away, squinting his eyes, “It was Margaery,” His voice sounded so unconvinced it was almost like he didn’t believe what he was telling, “She was crying so quietly I really don’t know how I actually heard it from my room.” He turned to look at her again, he seemed thoughtful, “And she didn’t tell me anything, she just smothered her sadness in my chest… I guess that’s when we connected.”

“Yes, that’s…” She never imagined Margaery went through that. It was so clear to her, she _loved_ Ella, and she was taken away from her. Yes, of course Margaery understood the reason, but that doesn’t take the pain away. She wondered what went through her mind, what kind of effect that situation had in the older girl, “I’m out of words.”

“I feel bad saying this but, I’m kinda glad it happened. I got to form such a bond with her, I know I can tell her everything.” His eyes were so fixed in her she almost felt his gaze was reading her mind, he was so immobile, she breathed in relief of the thought that he just wanted her reaction.

She smiled in return, sympathetically, she stretched her arm and grabbed his hand, warm at her cold touch, “It’s fine.” She said giving him a small squeeze.

He looked down meditative,“She changed after that. We changed.” 

“How’s that, my lord?” She replied, holding her voice to sound so eager.

“Well I kinda soaked upon all her outgoing personality. And she, well, toughened up, I never saw her cry again.”

He lift his head up and their eyes met, a simple nod of understanding was enough from her. The grey clouds hid behind them, the rain stopped.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for taking so long again, this was such a hard one. I know i’m probably really off the real time of traveling… but well, I did my best, hope you like it!

The Red Fork loped tranquilly, and the long trail of men rode resoluted to find Pinkmaiden. They’ve passed Riverrun a few hours ago, the ancestral and nearly floating castle of the house of her mother. As beautiful as the landscape was, the conversation she had with Loras the other day kept repeating itself in her mind, beating on her forehead like a pendulum. How much of the history with Ella had changed Margaery and how much it affected their relationship waggled her restless thoughts. Rising up her head, she tried to focus on the vast, deep and wide river.

Perhaps that was the reason she was so mysterious, so hard to break down. Well, people weren’t all carved from the same rock, Sansa knew this. But she also knew that when you truly intimate with someone you may get to see the hiding meanings of their words and the impulse of their manners and what motivates their skin to get goosebumps.

_That’s… all to it, she lost her first love. But she won’t lose me._

Lady was walking by her side, and her legs looked dragged out by the sluggish pace of the horses and men. She was never much far away from her, and the sensation she got when she was away was troubling. The direwolf looked at her with empathetic bisque eyes, it was like if the animal felt her emotions and mirrored her thoughts. _A warg shares its mind with the animals they go into. That way, the animal is part human, and the man is part animal_ , she recalled the words of Old Nan. She frowned her eyebrows, _I dream of her… I feel her… Does that mean…?_.

She felt a hand gently brushing her right shoulder, she blinked and turned. Eddard was looking at her with a big smile. The strong, sturdy smell of her father always gave her that sensation of calmness, she felt like if she was under an iron shield.

“Every time I look at you your face resembles more and more to your mother’s.” Lowering her hand and grabbing the reins, she saw how Ned’s eyebrows were weirdly separated and the wrinkle that she was so used to seeing between them was relaxed. His expression was almost mild, there was something off about it.

Her mouth formed a grin and the sound of a mild breeze filled the awkward silence.

“What I mean is, you look more grown-up.” Her father continued, and she just nodded.

She couldn’t see herself as an adult. She was floating in that point where she didn’t feel neither like a child or a grown-up. All that responsibility she saw in her parents, all the collectedness and solemness were to her like an apple she couldn’t reach on a high tree. She felt tiny sometimes, such a little bird with no experience in the world.

No experience. Not ready? She had that fear. That fear of getting hurt. She didn’t have anyone to compare Margaery to. She didn’t even had anyone to talk to about her, how could she know. All she knew was that she was in love, because love can’t be denied, she finally understood why when her mother talked about it, all she said was “you’ll know”.

By looking around she saw Margaery in one of the carriages that were behind them, engrossed in a conversation with her grandmother. And she simply saw it by looking at her, the distance between adulthood and herself, Margaery was a woman, and she was a child. “She’s beautiful.” She finally said, turning to gaze at Ned.

“The first time I saw her that wasn’t what struck me.” Her father talked about her mother, of course, she’d never heard the story of how her parents met. She’d heard pieces of the puzzles from time to time, and Eddard got taken up by the words his mouth was conferring, his eyes got lost in the horizon. “Although she was quite a vision, red as autumn and with sunset in her hair,” A big grin spread out his lips, and he turned to look at her, “just like yours my dear.” 

This time she really took upon the compliment, she felt pretty. “You never talk about it.”

“It’s not a fairytale.” He answered, looking downcast.

“I don’t care father, realness is much better.” She replied, trying to encourage him. He laughed, softly shaking his head like he didn’t believe what Sansa said. He might have begun to stop looking at her like a little child. “Come on, just tell me.”

He sighed wishfully, “To marry a woman you’ve never met before… She was committed to my brother. The circumstances were just, bizarre.” He said. She longed for those moments in which Ned stopped being the great lord of Winterfell, the guardian of the North. Right in that moment he was just her father. “She was so beautiful, so strange, and I was so hard and shy. You know, North and South.” His features mellowed into a smile, gazing at her eyes, “But everything just fit. We were together for just a night before I left for-” His mouth froze, shaping an o before closing itself. He looked at her and cleared his throat, Sansa couldn’t help but frown at that sudden dubiousness, but before she could think about it he continued, “When I came back she made it so much easier, and time passed and we fell in love. Sometimes I think it was faith.”

“The Old Gods you mean, father?” She replied, frowning her eyebrows. It was the first time his father said something somehow outside what he believed in.

“Yes. The Old Gods.” He said, and Sansa simply nodded. The old customs and her father religion never felt like a part of her, it was one of the things that made her feel more a Tully than a Stark. Ned reached for her hand, picking up on how uneasy Sansa felt whenever they touched the subject, “The instinct never lies though, Sansa. It’s important for you to follow what your heart tells you it’s right. You can’t do what other people would like you to do, it’s your life. Faith, destiny… they are just words, you make your own future.”

“I know.” Her eyes didn’t meet his because she felt disconnected. She looked at Lady without knowing why.

 _Lady likes Margaery. I love Margaery. I wonder if you’d understand that, father._ But Ned just sighed at her side, cautious and respectful. _He probably thinks this is about Loras._

“Did Loras give you that winter rose?” He said after a few seconds. She’d forgotten she had the winter rose tangled on her hair, holding it to her left ear. Every morning, ever since Margaery gave it to her, she’d smell it and her lungs would fill with that inundating sensation of feeling almost whole. Inexplicably, the blue flower never creased, never rotted.

“Oh… ahm…” She blushed and instinctively lifted her hand to take it off.

Ned smiled, his beard made him look even older, “It looks good, don’t take it off.” Clearing his throat again, he continued, “He’s really what you’ve always wanted isn’t he?”

She just gave a hint of a smile. Maybe if she talked about what she felt for Margaery everything would look more genuine.

“It’s fine. I get it, you’re embarrassed by talking about this with your father.” His tone faded away, bashfully.

She reached for his arm and squeezed it, “No, father.” She smiled, and Ned seemed to ease his awkward, cumbersome glare, “I… I think I’m in love. Every moment is, perfect.” She could talk about it for hours, days, what she felt. And probably she wouldn’t even get close.

“I’m happy for you, then.” He sighed.

She turned and fixed her eyes on the Tyrell carriage. She sighed as well.

“Changing the subject,” Ned said, “I’ve been wanting to tell you something for a while, but you always seem busy with Loras’s sister.” She gulped and whirled to look at him again. He continued, “Jon Arryn is dead.” And she gulped again, “Robert is asking me to be his Hand.”

“Does that mean he didn’t took for heart the fact that I didn’t marry Joffrey?” Her voice quavering slightly.

“He didn’t said anything on the letter.” He simply replied.

In that moment, Rodrik Cassel approached them both and began talking about the guarding shifts that night. Sansa simply pulled her reins and distanced herself.

The times where she had dreamt about King’s Landing seemed so far away. A strong pressure in her stomach made her uneasy. She haven’t felt like that since the last time she talked about her possible marriages with her father, because she had always planned and imagined dreamy castles and valiant knights, carrying her with their strong arms and riding with her to beautiful places all around the world, with their blond, blue-eyed little kids. All of that was gone. She just pictured Highgarden, and _her_ , with her bronze hair and soft skin. 

Without realizing it, a soft voice made her turn to one side, “You look so pretty when you get carried away with your thoughts.” 

Margaery’s eyes where sparkling, a big smirk curved her lips. She felt blood rushing to her cheeks, feeling warmness in her face and a void in her belly, she opened her mouth just a bit but she couldn’t emit any sound. The fact that the older girl realized such a little thing like that meant so much. She had taken the time to look at her, to contemplate her, and it just made her feel more flustered.

The old girl simply laughed and lifted her arm to caress her thumb across Sansa’s left cheek rapidly, “…So are you going to tell me what were you thinking about or are you just going to blush like a rose all the time? You know I’m the one who has that sigil all over my clothes.”

She laughed and looked away for a moment, the sun was setting, “…I was thinking about…” _you, nor that it is a surprise_ “…How I want to see where you grew up.”

Margaery pinched her lips and lifted her eyebrows, “Oh, well, it’s nice.” It almost seemed like the answer caught her by surprise, as she took a few seconds to go back to her big grin and lively stare.

She contemplated her briefly, her reaction was completely unforeseen. All of the things that were left to get to know the girl beside her, all of her secrets, laid in that marble castle. She took a big breath, “I bet it’s more than that. Winterfell is just one big cold stone with a garden.”

“Really? I think it has its own beauty.” The older girl’s right arm stretched her hand and interlaced hers. Sansa smiled big at her touch, at her words. She squeezed her hand in return and a little breeze went by. The older girl, weirdly shuddered under her hold, her jaw tightened. Sansa gave her a playful look, when she remembered that in the morning she used and old essence she had saved a long time ago. She wanted to play by the same rules.

“Perhaps I’m just eager to see new things.” She simply replied, lifting one of her eyebrows slightly.

“You can’t even begin to imagine all the things I will show you.” Margaery’s thumb began to caress the skin of her palm. Sansa felt her stomach shrink, but she didn’t let it affect her. She was playing back… Damn right she was, “The gardens, the pergolas with their vines.” And without changing her expression, she said calmly, “My bed.”

Sansa got lost in her eyes, and getting caught up by the moment she leaned forward a bit, before she heard muffled chuckles behind her. They took her by surprise, making her sit straight again while distinguishing with a fleeting look that the ones laughing where Margaery’s maidens.

“It sounds good.” She simply responded, letting go of her delicate touch.

Margaery simply blinked and hurried up the pace of her mare, making Sansa’s do the same. The orange and the crimson merged at the horizon. The urge she felt of asking Margaery about those laughs intensified with every step. Just when they were far away enough, she talked again, “Do they know?” Her tone came out more grave, but all the coolness she wanted to convey to her words seemed to disappear in her shaky voice.

Margaery replied staring intently to her front, gently speaking, “No, they don’t, Sansa.” She turned and bound her gaze, “Would it bother you?” The lights of the day were now almost gone, and just a few meters away the Stark tent was already settled. Their horses slowed down and Margaery’s skin looked blue, her features veiling gradually with the darkness. 

Of course it would bother her. She didn’t want those girls to know, even if she liked them, she wanted whatever relationship she might have with Margaery to be theirs completely. And more importantly, she wanted to believe she had a piece of the older girl to herself.

“I don’t know I just…” She sighed heavily, trying to put together the words of what she was feeling. She didn’t have the nerve to confront her about something that wasn’t her fault. She didn’t even know where all of this was coming from.

As her voice bleached, she lost her line of thought and all she could do was stare at her, waiting, begging for her to complete her own words. A veil drew across Margaery’s eyes, though. She saw her qualm for half a second.

“You don’t need to worry about it, sweet girl. Trust me.” Her response was firm, with the intention of being earnest. She took a deep breath and nodded, smiling, trying to transmit her assent. Or at least that was what she wanted to believe. 

“See you around, then.” She finally said, when Jory came close to help her get down of the horse. 

The older girl looked at her bug eyed, her calmness turned pensive. Turning her mare she simply replied, “Whenever you want.” 

Sansa saw her riding away, she stared at her back and curls for gods knew how much, as Jory had been trying to make her snap for minutes, as he said, until she finally got out of sight.

Later that night she would turn and toss in her bed, repeating her good-bye, _See you around? What were you thinking Sansa? She could tell I was off._

 

 

Lied on the divan of her carriage she thought about the past day. She wanted to believe Margaery, but she couldn’t. She thought she had begun to understand her intentions, she tricked herself into giving credit to her much wanted desire of thinking that the older girl might not have any other secrets than Ella. But that tiny little moment when she saw Margaery out of her carved persona was enough to spark a doubt.

Doubts, doubts. _I’m tired of feeling this, spiraling_. She never could’ve predicted love was going to be this way, but even with all of that she just wanted to kiss her. Press her lips on her. Touch her hair. Dance with her. Maybe it was all jealousy.

She sighed profoundly, driven by that thought. She missed her, and it had only been a few days, _how pathetic_ she thought. Lifting her head, she tried to made her speculations float away by admiring the enormous and astounding entrance of Deep Den, which was enclosed by a big hill. A castle inside a mountain, mysterious and unfathomable.

For all they had traveled she had compared what she knew about Highgarden with every tower, barrier and entrance. A tiered-wall, white and beautiful castle almost growing out of a mountain is the seat of House Tyrell, filled with fruit and flowers, gallant knights and troubadours with their pipes and harps, or that was what she had been told. It was almost kind of bizarre, how everything about her marriage seemed to resemblance what she had always dreamed of. Every little story and pieces of the future life of her fantasies just had another face on them.

 _If she could just open up to me._ She thought dolefully. She felt like if their relationship stagnated somehow, maybe it was the fact that she felt so distant from Margaery, and with all the doubts and jealousy everything was just getting worse day by day.

 _Things will be different once we arrive at Highgarden. I’m sure of it._ She could only hope and wait, patiently, that with all the love she could give Margaery could slowly become more open so that she could give Sansa the faith she so much longed for.

At the end of the day, she felt better, a little bit. She’d smiled and talked and pretended like she was interested whenever she had to be around someone, but whenever she could catch a break she would search through the long trail of horses and men if she could find that beautiful brown hair. Then, she could only get to the conclusion that she needed patience and time, it was the only way.

 

 

The cold reached her bones and her hands were trembling. She was riding alongside her mother, a few words spoken here and there, but the conversation never developed, her head was somewhere else. The bleak, grey day that almost swallowed the blue sky from the weeks before had never felt so heavy. They’ve just passed Goldengrove, much to her disappointment, as she didn’t got to see the big yellow tree Old Nan always mentioned in her stories. That meant however, that the next week they were going to arrive to Highgarden.

She’d spent some time with Loras in the past days, riding and occasionally eating together, she’d even shared some more moments with Ned, but Margaery had been out of sight. Longing is such an strange feeling, so powerful and contradictory. She wanted to be with her, but at the same time she didn’t. One of the ends of the balance won over easily nevertheless, she acted by instinct rather than with her head.

She felt weird, disconnected suddenly. Lady, who had been alongside her the whole day, abruptly started to hurry up her pace, driven by a smell. She detected it as well, golden roses and a sweet touch of grapevine. She was on her carriage, accompanied by one of her maidens. That longing trapped inside her chest felt igniting again, and she realized she’d never really missed someone like this, and it made her think if she had ever truly missed someone at all.

A long, dark cloak covered Sansa’s head. Moving covertly, she took advantage of the moment in which Bethany Rowan approached her mother. Her hands were almost pulling the reins unconsciously, guided only by her strong desire to talk to her again. She had to pass and swift and turn, for minutes that felt like hours.

Pulling a little bit, she stopped moving forward when she was just behind the carriage. She could see that curve jaw and those hands that made her shiver, and that blonde girl Sansa never learned the name of. That urge that drove her before was conquered by that fluttery, filled with jittery sensation that came across her spine every time she was about to do something that made her leave her comfort zone.

 _It’s just her maiden. Margaery will tell her to go away._

Already slowed down, she started to get closer when she overheard what they were saying.

“Did you ever talk to her again?” The maiden said.

“Of course not.” Margaery replied, her voice sounded indifferent.

“Well…” The procession got close to the woods, and a distant but strong waterfall could be heard. The mix of the sounds made Sansa miss a few words, “…pretty hang up on you.”

Margaery turned her head around to look the other way. Sansa lowered her head, trying to hid her face under the wooled hood. Raising her eyes after a moment, she couldn’t quite look at the older girl’s expression, but she remembered that windy day in the Broken Tower. That day was the first time she had a glimpse of Margaery’s exposed self. A sad, feeble look, it was something she could never forget. 

And after a long pause the older girl replied, “Her mistake.” Her voice was fainted and filled with sorrow, but her eyes where solemn and the look she was giving her maiden was just as assured as always. She was trying to hide her pain.

Sansa felt her heart skipped a beat, after seeing Margaery like that, her mind could just picture her and Ella. She tightened her jaw until her bones were hurting. She was incredibly, uncontrollably jealous, she felt powerless over the thought she couldn’t get out of her head.

She focused on the carriage again, when the blonde girl replied, “One day you’ll fall…” She was trying to lock Margaery’s eyes, but the older girl didn’t turn her head. Sansa lost their whispers in the steaming noise, the hissing was diminished by the rattle of the water against the rocks, “…I know you…” She leaned as much as she could, but she realized she’d missed the phrase, “…so well.”

“Perhaps…” The intermittent hissing continued, “…now…don’t see myself…falling onto that … would…”

The maiden frowned slightly, but the gaze she was giving just concealed understanding. After a pause, she bit her lower lip, measuring her words, “And how are things going with the wolf girl?”

“You know me.” Margaery replied, finally turning her head back to the maiden. Sansa could see a fine curve on the corner of her lip, she was smiling.

The blonde laughed, “Is she-” She said sniggering, the sound got lost when Sansa’s horse stumbled and she beefed, rolling her eyes in frustration.

Margaery interrupted her though, “Oh, yes. She’s so innocent, so beautiful. I think I was her first kiss.” Her voice was confident and a little bit cocky again, Sansa couldn’t help to blush.

“So the wolf girl is like a perfect victim for you.”

_What does she…?_

“She’s-” Her voice was cut short by the far sight she had of the horses stopping. The sun was setting and they were starting to set the camps. She needed to go, her mother must have been desperately looking for her, and it wouldn’t be so long before they realized she was there. She wanted to stay so much, she wanted to hear Margaery talking sincerely about her, but at the same time, she felt like she had heard enough.

She turned her horse and frowned. Her gawk stood still looking at the horse’s mane the rest of the time before she found her mother again. She just couldn’t believe it.


	8. Chapter 8

She’d asked her mother to leave her alone for the day, she told her she felt sick. But the real sickness that covered and loaded her body was love. She didn’t close her eyes for one second,(por qué la coma) the past night. All she could do was flutter and turn under the blankets, exasperated by the voice of the girl she had fallen in love with. It had become a habit now.

_She’s using me._

And she felt a hole in her stomach when she thought that it was a possibility. But she was also keeping the little hope that she’d misunderstood what Margaery really wanted to say. At the end of the day, after all, she had just listened to little pieces of the conversation, sounds and muffled words, she couldn’t believe every single thing as it was presented. She wasn’t a kid anymore. Or at least she wanted to think so.

But there she was, lying on the cushions of the carriage, trying to ignore the world. One week and they were going to arrive to Highgarden. Her future was waiting for her, and she remembered that Loras existed. But, even if she thought he was the most handsome man she’d ever seen, she couldn’t make herself think about him for more than five minutes. She only wanted to be with Margaery, she only wanted to think about her. She just wanted her skin to feel, her legs to be interlaced on her own, her smell and everything that she was.

Just a few weeks ago she had met this foreign girl, and now she couldn’t imagine her life without her. She was so deeply in love, _it sucks_ , was all she thought. It wasn’t perfect, it hurt, and when you’re in love everything’s magnified. Every look, every word, every little thing from the other one could mean the world. Now she knew.

To confront her, to keep her distance, to wait… She wanted it to end. And so she waited, for a couple of days. Frozen on her body, on her sickness, but boiling on her head. Just one day before they arrived to Highgarden, Margaery looked for her. At the end she didn’t have to take the first step, she had been afraid of that. She primped herself up as much as she could. Perfume and a long red silk dress. She knew she had to look as stunning as she could, not only because she knew it had an effect on Margaery, but because she loved how her expression froze when the older girl studied her up and down. Just another little thing she longed for intensely.

Before the older girl entered she looked at herself rapidly at the mirror, scrutinizing her face and her own self, trying to figure out what did she really want to say. No words would come to her mind, she sighed and suffocated the knot on her throat. _Honesty, that’s all I want._ It had been days and days of thinking about Ella and those bewildering words that Margaery said that changed everything.

She turned around and saw a soft hand unfolding one of the wooden doors, it opened and Margaery entered, the light with her. Sansa always loved to sleep in complete darkness.

A big smirk formed on her face when she saw Sansa, a spark on her eyes, she almost believed it was real. Other than that, she looked astonishing. She had cut her hair, and the dress she was wearing made Sansa’s knees feel a little weak. The older girl closed the door behind her, quickly looking up and down and locking her eyes with Sansa’s again, and for a split a second, Sansa smiled softly, almost imperceptibly to the older girl. She had made the impression she wanted. All those troubling nights didn’t take a toll on her appearance.

Sansa walked up a few steps and sat on the big sofa. Looking at Margaery, she tried to smile, inviting her to sit, the tangle on her throat keeping her from greeting as if nothing was wrong. She barely felt the corner of her lips moving up, her cheeks getting pink. She was so bad at pretending. 

Margaery kept her smirk and walked intently to her, sitting just a few inches away from Sansa. She crossed her arms on her lap and grazed her knee against Sansa’s. That was Sansa’s greeting, soft and strange, a little bit distant, but the older girl acted like the air wasn’t loaded. Her _touch_ was so unsettling though, Sansa felt her heartbeat skipping a bit.

“Your mother told me you have been sick these past days?” She said, quietly clearing her throat and tilting her head earnestly to one side.

“Yes, just a bit. Nothing serious.” Sansa replied, engrossed on those eyes she hadn’t seen in days, on the lips that gave her a mixture of anxiety and hunger for listening to what she had to say and for the heightened desire of kissing her.

“I’m glad then.” She said, getting closer. “I haven’t heard from you in so long, I was getting worried.” Sansa couldn’t help to smile, this time for real. But she quickly felt a rush of mistrust, from the fact that hearing those words could be, so easily, lies. She felt that emptiness on her stomach again.

Trying to ignore it, she tried to articulate any phrase. Something, anything, that would keep her from eventually fall in the impulse of blurting out everything that her pulse and thoughts, her body and feelings, wanted to say, but Margaery went ahead first, “So, are you ready for what is to come?”

The easiest exit. What on the seven hells was going to be their future, if there was any.

“What do you mean?” Sansa replied letting go of the hardness in the expression she was trying to convey with such an effort.

“Your marriage. Your responsibilities. Being a Tyrell. Possibly having children…”

“I’m not but, there isn’t anything I can really do about it, or is it?” Sansa said, peering at Margaery, trying to understand where she wanted to go.

“No.” She said sharply, straightening up, and when she looked down Sansa saw hopelessness. “But that doesn’t mean you can’t be happy.” Her smile was gone, but somehow her words became more meaningful, more loaded with significance than ever, “And you will be with-” she stopped herself, taking a long deep breath, she finished her sentence by looking at her, “us.” Sansa simply nodded and watched how the older girl slowly lost the tension on her muscles and went back to that confident, unbreakable pose.

The air between them thickened and the atmosphere got where Sansa wanted it to be. She just needed a little bit more, “And you? Are you ready for what is to come?”

“What do you mean?” She replied, pinching her eyebrows, relishing on repeating her words.

“Your future. Getting married one day. Possibly having children.” The words came out of Sansa’s mouth harshly, not letting go of her seriousness.

“Oh, well, I guess so.” She said, huffing and puffing, “It’s impossible for me to know. Lately everything that has been presenting to me has made something out of me that I never thought I could possibly be. So I can’t answer you until I experience it.” The tone of her voice became a little bit grave.

“Everything that has been presenting to you?” Sansa replied, utterly puzzled.

“Yes.” She simply murmured.

Sansa saw Margaery swallowing, the little lump on her throat moving before she moved her head in a weird manner, and with something that Sansa recognized as a little tic, she moved the curtains and gazed outside for a moment. Seeing her doubting, Sansa just replied with what her instinct told her, “Me?”

“You.” She replied firmly, turning again. Her mouth didn’t close fully, still a little bit open, like if the word haven’t escaped her gasp completely. Margaery’s jaw relaxed and Sansa could see her chest inflating in a big breath and letting it go with little pauses.

It was so beautiful, Sansa’s expression softened on a grin, “…How?”

“You’ve made me… different in so many ways I…” She looked at her so intently, her gaze was so strong, she saw a glimpse of the real Margaery. That pause unveiled her vulnerability to her, it was there, just right in front of her eyes, “I never thought someone could make me feel like this.”

Margaery leaned and placed a kiss on her lips before coming back again. Sansa smiled, but didn’t answer. The hunger came back again, like a flame on her gut, so zealous to claiming that girl for her own. Not long she waited though, because Sansa knew she needed to keep going or that moment could disappear for her, perhaps forever, so she decided to take the difficult way to Margaery’s heart, and the truth.

“But I know it’s just momentary.” She said, hardly, so dry. Taking that moment of exposure may had been cruel, insensitive, but the words came out and she felt a little relief.

Margaery moved away, bug eyed, “What?” She replied with a big gasp. She definitely wasn’t expecting that reply.

“This. This thing we have.” Sansa replied blinking. Biting her tongue, afraid.

Margaery furrowed her eyebrows and Sansa knew she was getting there, it was hurting her to do it this way, “Yes, but-“ She replied, her bottom lip trembling just barely, “You’re telling me, me and you-” And she took a big breath, “What you and I have… it doesn’t matter?” She sat back, increasing the space between them. No longer their legs grazed each other.

With that sight, Sansa felt a little bit desperate now, “No, I mean-” She tried to explain.

“What?” Her expression didn’t soften, angry or dejected, Sansa lost the grip on her.

“It does.” She replied muttering, and Margaery’s choleric face lessened. And in that moment she thought that maybe she’d misunderstood the whole thing. They were both there, separated, in such an ache,“…But does it matter to you?”

“Of course it does.” She firmly stated, shaking her head, “I…” Sansa longed for those words, she always had, but Margaery was still discouraged, “Why are you doing this?”

She opened her mouth, but nothing came out.

“Are you doubting me?” She continued, leaning in again. Taking that space between them that she had taken away before. Trying to take control.

“I’m not, but…” She sighed heavily, and she felt a battle inside of her. She could kiss her or pull away, she wanted both, but at the end those two feelings always crushed her inside and didn’t let her move, “You’re so hard to figure out sometimes, you never talk about your feelings, how can I get to know you if you…” _look so desperate to hide them all the time?_ she wanted to say.

When she finished, Margaery eased her stare, “I care about you.” 

_That’s the thing, you just care_ ,“How much? For how long?” Sansa kept her tears for herself for the first time in her life. She swallowed them, convinced that she couldn’t, wouldn’t look weak.

“You really are doubting me.” Margaery said, afflicted, almost like she didn’t believe it. She heard but she didn’t listen. For Sansa, Margaery’s tone and expression meant nothing, maybe it all started like a game, but she was just a girl. It was her first love, she wanted more, “You know I can’t do much Sansa. I don’t know.”

“That’s comforting.” She replied sarcastically, chagrined.

“Well, what do you want me to say?” She gave her a strong look, trying so hard to soften Sansa, she let go of the distressed, uncomfortable cast she had. Lightly tilting her head to one side, her mouth slightly open, her cheekbones illuminated by a veil of light that entered from the afternoon sun. A short silence reigned, while Sansa tried to study those features, how she was leaning forward, how her hands were resting on her legs but were pointing to her, trying to reach her.

“I don’t know.” She muttered, _Like hell I do._

“Well, I can only show you.” And with that conviction, that strong confidence of growing up with everything served for her, with such a beauty that wasn’t ever denied, Margaery leaned forward to kiss her, but Sansa, also with a high sense of self-assurance, pushed her away.

Margaery pinched her eyebrows, her face looked so confused, it was like no one had ever rejected her, “The other day, like a week ago, I heard you talking to one of your maidens.” Sansa said, struggling so hard to look away.

Margaery followed her stare, not letting go of it, “What exactly did you hear?” She questioned, straight-faced now.

“I don’t know precisely, I vaguely heard some things.” She sighed heavily, her heart skipping a bit, the words were finally vocable, out there, not crushing her chest, “But you talked like if nothing we have mattered to you.”

Margaery turned her eyes for a moment, like if she was trying to remember, “I understand now. But did you listen to everything I said?” Her voice sounded assured, Sansa felt her eyes so heavy on her own. Her intuition didn’t tell her this time, how Margaery could be lying.

“I… I guess not.” She whispered, so softly, she didn’t feel confident anymore. Quickly, that veil of inflexibility that Sansa had came down.

“Sansa,” Margaery’s voice was so sweet and full of understanding, she lifted a hand to cup her chin and with a delicate pull she made her get closer, “When I told you I didn’t tell anything to my maidens I was being honest. They don’t know.” A cleft formed between Sansa’s eyebrows, looking confused, she felt disoriented, and before she could say anything the older girl continued, “They obviously know I talk to you, they obviously know I’m drawn to you, because well, you’re beautiful,” She felt her cheeks turning red, “But they don’t know about my feelings for you.”

Margaery made a pause in that moment, and Sansa could only feel a heavy weight falling off her shoulders, the older girl searched for any trace of doubt in Sansa’s eyes but couldn’t find any. And Sansa wondered how she just practically declared to her, without an effort, with such a sincere display of the truth, so far away from what she was expecting.

“I don’t know until what point did you listen to, or what part of the conversation you heard but you need to believe me now,” And she came closer by lifting her other hand and grabbing her by the neck, “My past is not my present, and you are not like any other girl to me. When she started asking me about you, I pushed her off quickly because I don’t want any of them to get into this, into us.”

But the sadness, the mistrust pulled Sansa out of the trance, out of the spell that she always fell onto, all those days twisting in her sheets, waiting for her, trying to find any valid explanation weren’t for nothing. She leaned back and escaped from her hands, “How can I trust that’s what really happened?”

“Just, believe me.” She took her hand again and stroked it, not giving up that space that Sansa was trying so hard to create, running her thumbs against her skin, Sansa felt goosebumps. 

She remembered that rainy day on the Bell Tower, how unpredictable Margaery’s moves were, but even with that, the older girl managed to make her a promise, and how heedlessly she believed it. _We’ll make it work_. She said firmly that day.

 _Promises are nothing, Sansa. Actions, that is the real deal breaker. Whenever you doubt, think about them, they will tell you the realities that words cannot manage to._ Catelyn had said to her, at the entrance of that same tower, on a gloomy day of her childhood.

And with those thoughts in mind she knew she couldn’t make anything of it, words are nothing and the future will tell. She can fall in the same loop again, endlessly spinning in the same vicious circle, or she could test her, stand up for her feelings. She’ll distance herself and marry her brother, she’d give herself that time to watch her from the distance and try to understand why she acted in the way she did, what secrets she had, and if her feelings were for real.

“Sansa.” Margaery called her, and she opened her eyes. She didn’t know for how long she had them closed, drifting away in deliberations. Margaery squeezed her hand, “What are you thinking about?”

The glance Sansa gave her was all that she wanted for the day, she was done. She stood up and walked away from her, straight to the other side of the carriage she sat down quickly, crossing her arms. “That there are a lot of things that I don’t like about what we’re having.” She made a brief pause, and Margaery kept herself motionless, “And that is exactly what I need: to think, a lot.”

The sun rested shuddering, strongly shining at the top of the sky. Sansa turned and without moving any other muscle on her body, she watched all the trees that irradiated green and pink colors she had never seen before.

“I’ll give you your space, then.” Margaery’s voice was cold, almost withdrawn. “Coachman,” she called, “stop here.”

She heard her quiet steps leaving the carriage, before it began moving again. Sansa closed the curtains of the clothed windows and curled up in a corner, holding back on the thoughts, holding back on everything. She lied. She wanted the opposite, to not think about it.

 

 

 

The night before she didn’t eat. She didn’t talk to her parents, she was going to eat with Loras but she excused herself early by saying she wasn’t feeling well yet. She didn’t even turn her head to look at the green carriage that she always searched for, she was trying to keep the promise she made to herself, of not thinking about Margaery. 

Before getting to that point, she remembered all the moments they had together. Her jealousy and her initiative, every time that she had made her tremble, lose the small amount of air she saved in her lungs in her presence. Every time the oxygen would leave her body it was her will also abandoning her determination. She couldn’t be with someone she didn’t trust, so she drowned her feelings as much as she could.

They had started moving after breakfast, she was riding her horse alongside her parents, the main court of the Tyrell family leading them. She didn’t have to look away for much though, trying to avoid the sight of the older girl, cause when the distant blow of a horn informed they had gotten to the point where the Roseroad met the Ocean road, they were in Highgarden. Little by little, they circled the big mountain ahead of them. Soon they started to smell the golden roses, and the lushed path that guided them became a clear road, surrounded by farms and gardens of multiple and unrecognizable fruits.

Highgarden then became visible to them, walled by tall blackberry trees that guarded the first barrier with a long labyrinth. The three white tiered walls that circled the big castle nearly glittered under the sun light, the towers were higher than the ones in Winterfell and the shape of every building that could be seen exposed how different the culture of the reach was from the north, so different and warm.

When the court got to the long labyrinth, the horses had to line up in front so that the Tyrells and the Starks could get inside of the castle faster. Cramped up, she got separated from Catelyn and Ned, and in a moment of confusion she got pushed in front of them, her heart skipped a beat before Loras appeared by her side. _Thank god_ she sighed.

“Good morning my lady.” He said, giving a small curtsy. His horse was a big brown stallion that had a beautiful black mane that gave him a much more stood out presence. His silver armour highlighted the glittering flowers that adorned his chest. A big smirk sketched his mouth, he looked like her sister. 

_Perfect._ She thought, returning the salutation with a big smile that started as a relief and ended up as a disappointment. She wanted to avoid Margaery, but she still managed to find her described implicitly in all the small things.

“You look beaming today. I was told you weren’t feeling good the past week.”

 _Oh gods save me from this small talk now please._

“I didn’t. But I’m feeling good now, I must say all this flowers, the sight of Highgarden and the incredible people from the reach have given me energy. I can’t wait to see the castle.”

“You will love it, my lady. I can’t wait to show it to you.”

After that they remained silent, and turning her head she noticed they were conducting the procession. She was incredibly glad with Loras for discerning that she wasn’t in the mood for talking.

The tall brambles that created paths every now and then impregnated the air with a blackberry scent that calmed her down. The sun moved in the course of the journey in a distance so that Sansa calculated they had been riding for something close to two hours. It really was a long labyrinth.

After they finished getting to the end of the labyrinth, and once they got pass the three walls and the big wooden, flower decorated doors, they saw a big multitude that awaited for them at the entrance of the castle. All white dressed, with smiling faces and handcrafted crowns of roses, they saluted them with loud cheers. They screamed “Stark!” and “Tyrell!”and every once in a while “May the Gods bless Loras and Sansa!” or something of sorts.

Sansa felt elevated, almost in a dream. The fairytales she used to imagine in her head where almost on point in that moment, she saw nothing but happiness around her. But all that energy and happiness didn’t get to her, somehow. She’d always longed for it. She’d always liked those moments. She returned the salute though, by waving around and smiling as hard as she could.

“This is just a little taste, my lady. Of everything that I will give to you. I hope I can make you as happy as you are today.” Loras said, making her turn to her side.

With the manners old nan taught her, she leaned in and gave him a kiss on a cheek, close enough to the mouth. The crowd screamed and cheered.


End file.
